Great Prince! from thee, what may thy subjects hope;
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So kind, and so beneficent to brutes?
O mercy, heavenly born! Sweet attribute!
Thou great, thou best prerogative of power!
Justice may guard the throne, but joined with thee,
On rocks of adamant it stands secure,
And braves the storm beneath; soon as thy smiles
Gild the rough deep, the foaming waves subside,
And all the noisy tumult sinks in peace.

BOOK IV.

THE ARGUMENT.

Of the necessity of destroying some beasts, and preserving others for the
use of man.--Of breeding of hounds; the season for this business.--The
choice of the dog, of great moment.--Of the litter of whelps.--Number to
be reared.--Of setting them out to their several walks.--Care to be taken
to prevent their hunting too soon.--Of entering the whelps.--Of breaking
them from running at sheep.-Of the diseases of hounds.-Of their age.--Of
madness; two sorts of it described, the dumb, and outrageous madness: its
dreadful effects.--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.

Whate'er of earth is formed, 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.
Hence great the distance 'twixt the beasts that perish,
And God's bright image, man's immortal race.
The brute creation are his property,
Subservient to his will, and for him made.
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As hurtful these he kills, as useful those
Preserves; their sole and arbitrary king.
Should he not kill, as erst the Samian sage
Taught unadvised, and Indian Brahmins now
As vainly preach; the teeming ravenous brutes
Might fill the scanty space of this terrene,
Encumbering all the globe: should not his care
Improve his growing stock, their kinds might fail,
Man might once more on roots, and acorns, feed,
And through the deserts range, shivering, forlorn,
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Quite destitute of every solace dear,
And every smiling gaiety of life.
The prudent huntsman, therefore, will supply,
With annual large recruits, his broken pack,
And propagate