William Somerville

“ True courage never fails: in vain the stream
In foaming eddies whirls; in vain the ditch,
Wide-gaping, threatens death: the craggy steep,
Where the poor dizzy shepherd crawls with care,
And clings to every twig, gives us no pain;
But down we sweep, as stoops the falcon bold
To pounce his prey: then up the opponent hill,
By the swift motion slung, we mount aloft.
So ships, in winter seas, now sliding, sink
Adown the steepy wave, then, toss’d on high,
Ride on the billows, and defy the storm.
What lengths we pass! where will the wandering chase
Lead us, bewilder’d! ”

“ Rouze up the slothful beast, he shakes his sides,
Slow-rising from his lair, and stretches wide
His ravenous paws, with recent gore distain’d;
The forests tremble as he roars aloud,
Impatient to destroy. O’erjoy’d, he hears
The bleating innocent, that claims, in vain,
The shepherd’s care, and seeks, with piteous moan,
The foodful teat; himself, alas! design’d
Another’s meal. For now the greedy brute
Winds him from far; and, leaping o’er the mound,
To seize his trembling prey, headlong is plunged
Into the deep abyss. Prostrate he lies,
Astunn’d, and impotent. Ah! ”

“ When vigour strung his nerves: parental joy
Melts in his eyes, and flushes in his cheeks.
Now the loud trumpet sounds a charge: the shouts
Of eager hosts, through the circling line,
And the wild howlings of the beasts within,
Rend wide the welkin! flights of arrows, wing’d
With death, and javelins, launch’d from every arm,
Gall sore the brutal bands, with many a wound
Gored through and through. Despair at last prevails,
When fainting nature shrinks, and rouses all
Their drooping courage: swell’d with furious rage,
Their eyes dart fire; and on the youthful band
They rush implacable. ”

“ BOOK IV THE CHASE v. 235-259.
Raving, he runs, and deals destruction round.
The pack fly diverse; for whate’er he meets,
Vengeful, he bites, and every bite is death.
If now, perchance, through the weak fence escaped,
Far up the wind he roves, with open mouth
Inhales the cooling breeze, nor man, nor beast,
He spares, implacable. The hunter-horse,
Once kind associate of his sylvan toils,
Who haply, now, without the kennel’s mound,
Crops the rank mead, and, listening, hears with joy
The cheering cry, that morn and eve salutes
His raptured sense, a wretched victim falls. ”

“ Push on thy pack. Like some poor exiled wretch,
The frighted chase leaves her late dear abodes,
O’er plains remote she stretches far away,
Ah, never to return! for greedy death
Hovering exults, secure to seize his prey.
Hark! from yon covert, where those towering oaks
Above the humble copse aspiring rise,
What glorious triumphs burst, in every gale,
Upon our ravish’d ears! the hunters shout,
The clanging horns swell their sweet-winding notes ”

“ Are now the shepherd’s joy; men, boys, and girls,
Desert the unpeopled village; and wild crowds
Spread o’er the plain, by the sweet frenzy seized.
Look, how she pants! and o’er yon opening glade
Slips, glancing, by; while, at the further end,
The puzzling pack unravel wile by wile,
Maze within maze. The covert’s utmost bound
Slily she skirts; behind them, cautious, creeps,
And, in that very track, so lately stain’d
By all the steaming crowd, seems to pursue
The foe she flies. Let cavillers deny
That brutes have reason ”

“ BOOK II THE CHASE v. 263-287.
She reels along, and, by her gait, betrays
Her inward weakness. See, how black she looks!
The sweat, that clogs the obstructed pores, scarce leaves
A languid scent. And now, in open view,
See, see! she flies; each eager hound exerts
His utmost speed, and stretches every nerve.
How quick she turns, their gaping jaws eludes,
And yet a moment lives; till round enclosed
By all the greedy pack, with infant screams
She yields her breath, and there reluctant dies! ”

“ BOOK III THE CHASE v. 504-528.
The dreadful din: he shivers every limb;
He starts, he bounds; each bush presents a foe.
Press’d by the fresh relay, no pause allow’d,
Breathless and faint, he falters in his pace,
And lifts his weary limbs with pain, that scarce
Sustain their load: he pants, he sobs, appall’d;
Drops down his heavy head to earth, beneath
His cumbrous beams oppress’d. But if, perchance,
Some prying eye surprise him, soon he rears
Erect his towering front, bounds o’er the lawn,
With ill-dissembled vigour, to amuse
The knowing forester ”

“ Glutting her greedy jaws, grins o’er her prey.
Men, horses, dogs, fierce beasts of every kind,
A strange promiscuous carnage, drench’d in blood,
And heaps on heaps amass’d. What yet remain
Alive, with vain assault, contend to break
The impenetrable line: others, whom fear
Inspires with self-preserving wiles, beneath
The bodies of the slain for shelter creep ”

“ Surround him, hounds, and men. Pierced through and through,
On pointed spears they lift him high in air;
Wriggling, he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain.
Bid the loud horns, in gaily-warbling strains,
Proclaim the felon’s fate; he dies, he dies!
Rejoice, ye scaly tribes; and, leaping, dance
Above the wave, in sign of liberty
Restored: the cruel tyrant is no more.
Rejoice, secure and bless’d; did not as yet
Remain, some of your own rapacious kind;
And man, fierce man, with all his various wiles. ”

“ Upon their shoulders broad, the bleeding prey.
Part on their altars smokes a sacrifice
To that all-gracious Power, whose bounteous hand
Supports his wide creation: what remains,
On living coals they broil, inelegant
Of taste, nor skill’d, as yet, in nicer arts
Of pamper’d luxury. Devotion pure,
And strong necessity, thus first began
The chase of beasts; though bloody was the deed,
{8}
BOOK I THE CHASE v. 64-88.
Yet without guilt: for the green herb, alone,
Unequal to sustain man’s labouring race,
Now every moving thing that lived on earth,
Was granted him for food. ”

“ Oppian also observes, that the best sort of these finders were brought from Britain; this island having always been famous, as it is at this day, for the best breed of hounds, for persons the best skilled in the art of hunting, and for horses the most enduring to follow the chase. It is, therefore, strange that none of our poets have yet thought it worth their while to treat of this subject; which is, without doubt, very noble in itself, and very well adapted to receive the most beautiful turns of poetry. Perhaps our poets have no great genius for hunting. ”

“ The amusements of our youth are the boast and comfort of our declining years. The ancients carried this notion even yet further, and supposed their heroes, in the Elysian fields, were fond of the very same diversions they exercised on earth: death itself could not wean them from the accustomed sports and gaities of life. ”

“ Of those who have by their writings conferred a lasting obligation on their country, and at the same time raised its reputation, many have been suffered to descend into the grave without any memorial; and when the time has arrived, in which their works have raised a curiosity to be informed of the general tenour, or petty habits of their lives, always amusing, and frequently useful, little more is to be collected, than that they once lived, and are no more.
Such has been the fate of William Somervile, who may, with great propriety, be called the Poet of the Chase ”

“ That nicer sense, on which the sportsman’s hope,
And all his future triumphs, must depend.
Soon as the growling pack, with eager joy,
Have lapp’d their smoking viands, morn or eve,
From the full cistern lead the ductile streams,
To wash thy court, well-paved; nor spare thy pains,
For much to health will cleanliness avail.
Seek’st thou for hounds to climb the rocky steep,
And brush the entangled covert, whose nice scent
O’er greasy fallows, and frequented roads,
Can pick the dubious way? Banish far off
Each noisome stench, let no offensive smell
{12}
BOOK I THE CHASE v. 164-188. ”

“ Warton observes, that he “writes with all the spirit and fire of an eager sportsman. The description of the hunting the hare, the fox, and the stag, are extremely spirited, and place the very objects before our eyes: of such consequence is it for a man to write on that, which he hath frequently felt with pleasure.” ”

“ To charge the well-train’d foe, a band compact
Of chosen veterans, they press blindly on,
In heaps confused, by their own weapons fall,
A smoking carnage scatter’d o’er the plain.
Nor hounds alone this noxious brood destroy:
The plunder’d warrener full many a wile
Devises, to entrap his greedy foe,
Fat with nocturnal spoils. At close of day,
He silent drags his trail; then from the ground
Pares thin the close-grazed turf; there, with nice hand,
Covers the latent death, with curious springs
Prepared to fly at once, whene’er the tread
{62}
BOOK III THE CHASE v. 205-229. ”

“ Beneath the wave, hangs on his haunch, and wounds
The unhappy brute, that flounders in the stream,
Sorely distress’d, and, struggling, strives to mount
The steepy shore. Haply once more escaped;
Again he stands at bay, amid the groves
Of willows, bending low their downy heads.
Outrageous transport fires the greedy pack;
These swim the deep, and those crawl up with pain
The slippery bank, while others on firm land
Engage; the stag repels each bold assault,
Maintains his post, and wounds for wounds returns.
As when some wily corsair boards a ship
{77}
BOOK III THE CHASE v. 579-602. ”

“ Cold death exults, and stiffens every limb.
{39}
BOOK II THE CHASE v. 288-312.
Awed, by the threatening whip, the furious hounds
Around her bay; or, at their master’s foot,
Each happy favourite courts his kind applause,
With humble adulation cowering low.
All now is joy. With cheeks full-blown they wind
Her solemn dirge, while the loud-opening pack
The concert swell, and hills and dales return
The sadly-pleasing sounds. Thus the poor hare,
A puny, dastard animal! but versed
In subtle wiles, diverts the youthful train. ”

“ William Somervile, our poet, was born in the year 1677, at Ederston, “near Avona’s winding stream,” as he himself records in one of his poems. At the age of thirteen, in the year 1690, he was admitted a scholar of Winchester College, and continued there until the year 1694, when he was sent to New College, Oxford. It does not appear, as Dr. Johnson observes, that in the places of his education, he exhibited any uncommon proofs of genius or literature. He is said, by the same author, to have been elected a Fellow of New College ”

“ Passing they view, admire, and sigh in vain;
While crowded theatres, too fondly proud
Of their exotick minstrels, and shrill pipes,
The price of manhood, hail thee with a song,
And airs soft-warbling; my hoarse-sounding horn
{6}
BOOK I THE CHASE v. 14-38.
Invites thee to the chase, the sport of kings;
Image of war, without its guilt. The Muse
Aloft on wing shall soar, conduct with care
Thy foaming courser o’er the steepy rock,
Or, on the river bank, receive thee safe,
Light-bounding o’er the wave, from shore to shore.
Be thou our great protector, gracious youth! ”

“ In the year 1742, a few months only before his death, he published Field Sports; a poem addressed to the Prince of Wales; and from Lady Luxborough’s letters we learn, that he had translated Voltaire’s Alzira, which, with several other pieces not published, were in her possession. One of these, written towards the close of life, is so descriptive of the old age of a sportsman, and exhibits so pleasing a picture of the temper and turn of mind of the author, we shall here insert. It is an “Address to his Elbow Chair, new clothed.{xii}”
My dear companion, and my faithful friend! ”

“ Johnson says, “his distresses need not to be much pitied; his estate is said to have been fifteen hundred a year, which by his death devolved to Lord Somervile of Scotland. His mother, indeed, who lived till ninety, had a jointure of six hundred.” This remark is made with less consideration than might have been expected, from so close an observer of mankind. Such an estate, incumbered in such a manner, and perhaps{xv} otherwise, frequently leaves the proprietor in a very uneasy situation, with but a scanty pittance; and it is evident, that our author was by no means an economist. ”

“ The ancients esteemed hunting, not only as a manly and{xxii} warlike exercise, but as highly conducive to health. The famous Galen recommends it above all others, as not only exercising the body, but giving delight and entertainment to the mind. And he calls the inventors of this art wise men, and well-skilled in human nature. ”

“ The origin of hunting. The rude and unpolished manner of the first hunters. Beasts at first hunted for food and sacrifice. The grant made by God to man of the beasts, &c. The regular manner of hunting first brought into this island by the Normans. The best hounds and best horses bred here. The advantage of this exercise to us, as islanders. Address to gentlemen of estates. Situation of the kennel, and its several courts. The diversion and employment of hounds in the kennel. The different sorts of hounds for each different chase. Description of a perfect hound. Of sizing and sorting of hounds ”

“ Burning of the wound recommended, as preventing all ill consequences. The infectious hounds to be separated, and fed apart. The vanity of trusting to the many infallible cures for this malady. The dismal effects of the biting of a mad dog, upon man, described. Description of the otter-hunting. The conclusion.
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{83}
Whate’er of earth is form’d, to earth returns,
Dissolved: the various objects we behold,
Plants, animals, this whole material mass,
Are ever changing, ever new: the soul
Of man alone, that particle divine,
Escapes the wreck of worlds, when all things fail. ”

“ By the neglect of friends while living, and the want of curiosity in the publick, at the time of his death, he has been deprived of that portion of fame to which his merits have entitled him; and though the worth of his works is now universally acknowledged, his amiable qualities, and he is said to have possessed many,{vi} are forgotten and irrevocably lost to the world. ”

“ He has, it is true, touched upon the chase in the fourth and seventh books of the Æneid. But it is evident, that the art of hunting is very different now, from what it was in his days, and very much altered and improved in these latter ages. It does not appear to me, that the ancients had any notion of pursuing wild beasts, by the scent only, with a regular and well-disciplined pack of hounds; and therefore they must have passed for poachers amongst our modern sportsmen. ”

“ In vain each earth he tries; the doors are barr’d,
Impregnable; nor is the covert safe;
He pants for purer air. Hark! what loud shouts
Re-echo through the groves!—he breaks away!
Shrill horns proclaim his flight. Each straggling hound
Strains o’er the lawn, to reach the distant pack.
’Tis triumph all, and joy. Now, my brave youths,
Now give a loose to the clean generous steed;
{57}
BOOK III THE CHASE v. 85-108.
Flourish the whip, nor spare the galling spur:
But, in the madness of delight, forget
Your fears! Far o’er the rocky hills we range,
And dangerous our course ”

“ The panting chase grows warmer as he flies,
And through the net-work of the skin perspires;
Leaves a long streaming trail behind, which, by
The cooler air condensed, remains, unless
By some rude storm dispersed, or rarefied
By the meridian sun’s intenser heat:
To every shrub the warm effluvia cling,
Hang on the grass, impregnate earth and skies:
With nostrils opening wide, o’er hill, o’er dale,
The vigorous hounds pursue, with every breath
Inhale their grateful steam; quick pleasures sting
Their tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay,
{20}
BOOK I THE CHASE v. 361-385. ”

“ And the description of the ancient hunting, as we find it in the antiquities of Pere de Montfaucon, taken from the sepulchre of the Nasos, and the arch of Constantine, has not the least trace of the manner now in use.
Whenever the ancients mention dogs following by the scent, they mean no more than finding out the game by the nose of one single dog. ”

“ Lady Luxborough declares him to have been a gentleman who deserved the esteem of every good man, and one who was regretted accordingly.
He died July 19, 1742, and was buried at Wotton, near Henley on Arden. He had been married to Mary, daughter of Hugh Bethel, of Yorkshire, who died before him, without leaving any issue. By his will, proved the third of September, 1742, he remembered New College, the place of his education, by leaving to the master and fellows, fifteen volumes of Montfaucon’s Antiquities, and Addison’s works, for their library ”