| Citation |
PC.768.030
15-22 Feb 1768:282 (58)
Scarce had the night resign'd her gloomy sway,
Or tripping fairies reach'd their wonted cells,
Scarce the faint glimm'rings of approaching morn
Had warn'd pale spectres to their deep abodes,
When eager sprang from enervating sleep
Th'advent'rous hardy youth to chase the fox.
Loud sounds the horn, the lofty swelling notes,
Thrill through their veins and animate their blood;
The prancing steeds, and lively op'ning hounds,
Proclaim the pow'rful music of the horn:
Superior far to Amphion's soft'ning harp
Or that in ancient days which Orpheus struck;
They but loose stones could e'er succeed to move,
Or single groves with gentle motion urge;
Thine be the pow'r majestic horn to yield
More lively feelings, and more rapt'rous fires;
High tow'ring palaces, and vaulted domes,
Return in kindred notes the joyous tone,
The distant mountains whose uplifted heads
Rear to the skies and scorn the lowly vales,
And forests wide at unizons attun'd,
Vibrate in echoes to the pleasing sound.
. . . [73 more lines, signed] A Sportsman.
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