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Updated: May 29, 2025
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flu'd so sanded, and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew. Crook-knee'd and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls, Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouths like bells, Each under each: A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor chear'd with horn.
Could I believe my Friend had ever read Shakespear, I should certainly conclude he had taken the Hint from Theseus in the Midsummer Night's Dream. My Hounds are bred out of the Spartan Kind, So flu'd, so sanded; and their Heads are hung With Ears that sweep away the Morning Dew.
Could I believe my friend had ever read Shakespeare, I should certainly conclude he had taken the hint from Theseus in the Midsummer Night's Dream. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flu'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew.
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