She feasts her young with blood, and, hov'ring o'er Th' unflaughter'd hoft, enjoys the promis'd gore. Know'st thou how many moons, by me affign'd, Roll o'er the mountain goat, and foreft hind, While pregnant they a mother's load fuftain? They bend in anguish, and caft forth their pain. Hale are their young, from human frailties freed; Walk unfuftain'd, and unaffifted feed;
They live at once; forfake the dam's warm fide; Take the wide world, with nature for their guide; Bound o'er the lawn, or feek the diftant glade; And find a home in each delightful fhade.
Will the tall reem, which knows no lord but me, Low at the crib, and ask an alms of thee? Submit his unworn fhoulder to the yoke,
Break the ftiff clod, and o'er thy furrow smoke?
Since great his ftrength, go trust him, void of care;
Lay on his neck the toil of all the year;
Bid him bring home the feasons to thy doors,
And caft his load among thy gather'd stores.
Didft thou from fervice the wild-afs difcharge,
And break his bonds, and bid him live at large,
Thro' the wide waste, his ample mansion, roam,
And lofe himself in his unbounded home?
By nature's hand magnificently fed,
His meal is on the range of mountains spread;
As in pure air aloft he bounds along,
He fees in diftant smoke the city throng;
Conscious of freedom, fcorns the fmother'd train, The threat'ning driver, and the fervile rein.
Survey the warlike horfe! didft thou invest
With thunder, his robuft diftended cheft?
No fenfe of fear his dauntlefs foul allays;
'Tis dreadful to behold his noftrils blaze;
To paw the vale he proudly takes delight,
And triumphs in the fulness of his might;
High-rais'd he fnuffs the battle from afar,
And burns to plunge amid the raging war;
And mocks at death, and throws his foam around,
And in a storm of fury fhakes the ground.
How does his firm, his rifing heart, advancé
Full on the brandifh'd fword, and fhaken lance;
While his fix'd eye-balls meet the dazzling shield,
Gaze, and return the lightning of the field!
He finks the fenfe of pain in gen'rous pride,
Nor feels the fhaft that trembles in his fide;
But neighs to the fhrill trumpet's dreadful blast
Till death; and when he groans, he groans his laft.
But, fiercer ftill, the lordly lion ftalks,
Grimly majestic in his lonely walks;
When round he glares, all living creatures fly;
He clears the defart with his rolling eye.
Say, mortal, does he roufe at thy command,
And roar to thee, and live upon thy hand?
Doft thou for him in forefts bend thy bow,
And to his gloomy den the morfel throw,
Where bent on death lie hid his tawny brood,
And, couch'd in dreadful ambush, pant for blood;
Or, ftretch'd on broken limbs, confume the day,
In darkness wrapt, and flumber o'er their prey?
By the pale moon they take their deftin'd round,
And lash their fides, and furious tear the ground.
Now fhrieks, and dying groans, the defart fill;
They rage, they rend, their rav'nous jaws distil
With crimfon foam; and, when the banquet's o'er,
They ftride away, and paint their fteps with gore;
In flight alone the fhepherd puts his trust,
And fhudders at the talon in the duft.
Mild is my Behemoth, tho' large his frame;
Smooth is his temper, and repreft his flame,
While unprovok'd. This native of the flood
Lifts his broad foot, and puts afhore for food;
Earth finks beneath him, as he moves along
To feek the herbs, and mingle with the throng.
See, with what strength his harden'd loins are bound,
All over proof, and fhut against a wound.
How like a mountain cedar moves his tail!
Nor can his complicated finews fail.
Built high and wide, his folid bones surpass
The bars of fteel; his ribs are ribs of brass;
His port majeftic, and his armed jaw,
Give the wide forest, and the mountain, law.
The mountains feed him; there the beafts admire
The mighty ftranger, and in dread retire:
At length his greatnefs nearer they furvey,
Graze in his fhadow, and his eye obey.
The fens and marshes are his cool retreat,
His noon-tide fhelter from the burning heat;
Their fedgy bofoms his wide couch are made,
And groves of willows give him all their shade.
His eye drinks Jordan up, when, fir'd with drought,
He trufts to turn its current down his throat;
In leffen'd waves it creeps along the plain:
He finks a river, and he thirfts again.
Go to the Nile, and, from its fruitful fide,
Caft forth thy line into the fwelling tide:
With flender hair Leviathan command,
And ftretch his vaftnefs on the loaded ftrand.
Will he become thy fervant? Will he own
Thy lordly nod, and tremble at thy frown?
Or with his fport amuse thy leifure day,
And, bound in filk, with thy foft maidens play?
Shall pompous banquets fwell with fuch a prize?
And the bowl journey round his ample size?
Or the debating merchants fhare the prey,
And various limbs to various marts convey?
Thro' his firm fkull what steel its way can win?
What forceful engine can fubdue his skin?
Fly far, and live; tempt not his matchlefs might;
The braveft fhrink to cowards in his fight;
The rafheft dare not roufe him up: who then
Shall turn on me, among the fons of men?
Am I a debtor? Haft thou ever heard
Whence come the gifts which are on me conferr'd?
My lavish fruit a thoufand valleys fills,
And mine the herds, that graze a thousand hills:
Earth, fea, and air, all nature is my own;
And ftars and fun are duft beneath my throne.
And dar'ft thou with the world's great father
Thou, who doft tremble at my creature's eye?
At full my huge Leviathan fhall rife,
Boaft all his ftrength, and spread his wond'rous fize.
Who, great in arms, e'er ftripp'd his fhining mail,
Or crown'd his triumph with a fingle fcale?
Whose heart fuftains him to draw near? Behold,
Destruction yawns; his fpacious jaws unfold,
And, marshal'd round the wide expanfe, disclose
Teeth edg'd with death, and crouding rows on rows:
What hideous fangs on either fide arife!
And what a deep abyfs between them lies!
Mete with thy lance, and with thy plummet found,
The one how long, the other how profound.
His bulk is charg'd with fuch a furious foul,
That clouds of fmoke from his fpread noftrils roll,
As from a furnace; and, when rous'd his ire,
Fate iffues from his jaws in ftreams of fire.
The rage of tempefts, and the. roar of feas,
Thy terror, this thy great fuperior please;
Strength on his ample fhoulder fits in ftate;
His well-join'd limbs are dreadfully complete;
His flakes of folid flesh are flow to part;
As fteel his nerves, as adamant his heart.
When, late-awak'd, he rears him from the floods, And, ftretching forth his ftature to the clouds, Writhes in the fun aloft his fcaly height, And strikes the diftant hills with tranfient light, Far round are fatal damps of terror spread, The mighty fear, nor blush to own their dread. Large is his front; and, when his burnifh'd eyes. Lift their broad lids, the morning feems to rife.
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