hare that lies dead-beat; nor must he wittingly leave any patch of
green or clod of earth untested.[41] Backwards and forwards he must
try and try again the ground,[42] to be sure that nothing has been
overlooked. The fact is, the little creature lies in a small compass,
and from fatigue and fear will not get up. As he leads the hounds on
he will cheer and encourage them, addressing with many a soft term the
docile creature, the self-willed, stubborn brute more rarely, and to a
moderate extent the hound of average capacity, till he either succeeds
in running down or driving into the toils some victim.[43] After which
he will pick up his nets, both small and large alike, giving every
hound a rub down, and return home from the hunting-field, taking care,
if it should chance to be a summer's noon, to halt a bit, so that the
feet of his hounds may not be blistered on the road.

[41] Lit. "anything which earth puts forth or bears upon her bosom."

[42] Or, "Many and many a cast back must he make."

[43] The famous stanzas in "Venus and Adonis" may fitly close this
chapter.

And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,
Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles
How he outruns the wind and with what care
He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
The many musets through the which he goes
Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.

Sometimes he runs among a flock of sheep,
To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,