Quotations From Literature About
Greyhounds
Argus and Odysseus
As they were thus talking, a dog that had been lying asleep raised
"Eumaeus, what a noble hound that is over yonder on the manure heap:
"This hound," answered Eumaeus, "belonged to him who has died in a
As he spoke he went inside the buildings to the cloister where the
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Actaeon and Artemis
After depicting the transformation of Actaeon into a stag, Ovid wrote:
Lelaps and Procris
Ovid on Greyhound Coursing
The Ideal Greyhound
from Edmund de Langley's Mayster of Game, AD 1370.
(Homer, The Odyssey Book XVII)
his head and pricked up his ears. This was Argos, whom Ulysses had
bred before setting out for Troy, but he had never had any work out
of
him. In the old days he used to be taken out by the young men when
they went hunting wild goats, or deer, or hares, but now that his
master was gone he was lying neglected on the heaps of mule and
cow
dung that lay in front of the stable doors till the men should come
and draw it away to manure the great close; and he was full of
fleas. As soon as he saw Ulysses standing there, he dropped his ears
and wagged his tail, but he could not get close up to his master.
When
Ulysses saw the dog on the other side of the yard, dashed a tear
from his eyes without Eumaeus seeing it, and said:
his build is splendid; is he as fine a fellow as he looks, or is he
only one of those dogs that come begging about a table, and are kept
merely for show?"
far country. If he were what he was when Ulysses left for Troy, he
would soon show you what he could do. There was not a wild beast in
the forest that could get away from him when he was once on its
tracks. But now he has fallen on evil times, for his master is dead
and gone, and the women take no care of him. Servants never do
their
work when their master's hand is no longer over them, for Jove
takes
half the goodness out of a man when he makes a slave of him."
suitors were, but Argos died as soon as he had recognized his master.
Ovid, Metamorphosis
As he thus ponders, he behind him spies
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Greyhound: History
His op'ning hounds, and now he hears their cries:
A gen'rous pack, or to maintain the chace,
Or snuff the vapour from the scented grass.
He bounded off with fear, and swiftly ran
O'er craggy mountains, and the flow'ry plain;
Through brakes and thickets forc'd his way, and flew
Through many a ring, where once he did pursue.
In vain he oft endeavour'd to proclaim
His new misfortune, and to tell his name;
Nor voice nor words the brutal tongue supplies;
From shouting men, and horns, and dogs he flies,
Deafen'd and stunn'd with their promiscuous cries.
When now the fleetest of the pack, that prest
Close at his heels, and sprung before the rest,
Had fasten'd on him, straight another pair,
Hung on his wounded haunch, and held him there,
'Till all the pack came up, and ev'ry hound
Tore the sad huntsman grov'ling on the ground,
Who now appear'd but one continu'd wound.
With dropping tears his bitter fate he moans,
And fills the mountain with his dying groans.
His servants with a piteous look he spies,
And turns about his supplicating eyes.
His servants, ignorant of what had chanc'd,
With eager haste and joyful shouts advanc'd,
And call'd their lord Actaeon to the game.
He shook his head in answer to the name;
He heard, but wish'd he had indeed been gone,
Or only to have stood a looker-on.
But to his grief he finds himself too near,
And feels his rav'nous dogs with fury tear
Their wretched master panting in a deer.
Ovid, Metamorphosis
But with herself she kindly did confer,
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Greyhound: History
What gifts the Goddess had bestow'd on her;
The fleetest grey-hound, with this lovely dart,
And I of both have wonders to impart.
Near Thebes a savage beast, of race unknown,
Laid waste the field, and bore the vineyards down;
The swains fled from him, and with one consent
Our Grecian youth to chase the monster went;
More swift than light'ning he the toils surpast,
And in his course spears, men, and trees o'er-cast.
We slipt our dogs, and last my Lelaps too,
When none of all the mortal race wou'd do:
He long before was struggling from my hands,
And, e're we cou'd unloose him, broke his bands.
That minute where he was, we cou'd not find,
And only saw the dust he left behind.
I climb'd a neighb'ring hill to view the chase,
While in the plain they held an equal race;
The savage now seems caught, and now by force
To quit himself, nor holds the same strait course;
But running counter, from the foe withdraws,
And with short turning cheats his gaping jaws:
Which he retrieves, and still so closely prest,
You'd fear at ev'ry stretch he were possess'd;
Yet for the gripe his fangs in vain prepare;
The game shoots from him, and he chops the air.
To cast my jav'lin then I took my stand;
But as the thongs were fitting to my hand,
While to the valley I o'er-look'd the wood,
Before my eyes two marble statues stood;
That, as pursu'd appearing at full stretch,
This barking after, and at point to catch:
Some God their course did with this wonder grace,
That neither might be conquer'd in the chase.
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Greyhound: History
As when the impatient greyhound slipped from far,
Bounds o'er the glade to course the fearful hare,
She in her speed does all her safety lay.
And he with double speed pursues the prey,
O'erruns her at the sitting turns, but licks
His chops in vain; and blows upon the flix,
She escapes, and for the neighboring covert strives,
And gaining shelter, doubts if she yet lives.
The Greihound should have a long hede and somedele grete, ymaked in the
manner of a luce; a good large mouth and good sessours, the one again the
other, so that the nether jaws passe not them above, ne that thei above passe
not him neither.
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Greyhound: History
The neck should be grete and long, and bowed as a swanne's neck.
Her shuldres as a roebuck; the for leggs streght and gret ynow, and
nought to hind legges; the feet straught and round as a catte, and great
cleas; the boones and the joynetes of the cheyne grete and hard as the chyne
of an hert; the thighs great and squarred as an hare; the houghs steight, and
not crompyng as of an oxe.
A catte's tayle, making a ring at eend, but not to hie.
Of all manere of Greihondes there byn both good and evel; Natheless
the best hewe is rede falow, with a black moselle.