INCIDENT

CHARACTERISTIC OF A FAVOURITE DOG.

ON his morning rounds the master
Goes, to learn how all things fare;
Searches pasture after pasture,
Sheep and cattle eyes with care;
And, for silence or for talk,
He hath comrades in his walk;

Four dogs, each pair of different breed,
Distinguish'd, two for scent, and two for speed.

See, a hare before him started!
-Off they fly in carnest chase;
Every dog is eager-hearted,
All the four are in the race;
And the hare whom they pursue,
Hath an instinct what to do:

Her hope is near: no turn she makes,
But like an arrow, to the river takes.
Deep the river was, and crusted
Thinly by a one night's frost;
But the nimble hare hath trusted
To the ice, and safely cross'd;
She hath cross'd, and without heed
They are following at full speed,
When lo! the ice so thinly spread,
Breaks-and the greyhound Dart is over-head.

Better fate have Prince and Swallow

See them cleaving to the sport!

Music has no heart to follow

Little Music she stops short.

She hath neither wish nor heart,

Hers is now another part:

A loving creature she and brave!

And fondly strives her struggling friend to save.

From the brink her paws she stretches,

Very hands as you would say!

And afflicting moans she fetches,

As he breaks the ice away.
For herself she hath no fears,-

Him alone she sees and hears,

Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o'er Until her fellow sinks, and reappears no more.

TRIBUTE

TO THE MEMORY OF THE SAME DOG.

:

LIE here sequester'd be this little mound
For ever thine, and be it holy ground!
Lie here, without a record of thy worth,
Beneath the covering of the common earth!

SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION.

It is not from unwillingness to praise,

Or want of love, that here no stone we raise :
More thou deserv'st; but this man gives to man,
Brother to brother, this is all we can,

Yet they to whom thy virtues made thee dear
hall find thee through all changes of the year:
This oak points out thy grave; the silent tree
Vill gladly stand a monument of thee.

pray'd for thee, and that thy end were past;
nd willingly have laid thee here at last:
or thou hadst lived, till everything that cheers
thee had yielded to the weight of years;
xtreme old age had wasted thee away;
nd left thee but a glimmering of the day;
y ears were deaf, and feeble were thy knees,
aw thee stagger in the summer breeze,
o weak to stand against its sportive breath,
d ready for the gentlest stroke of death.
came, and we were glad; yet tears were shed:
h man and woman wept when thou wert dead;
only for a thousand thoughts that were

household thoughts, in which thou hadst thy share, for some precious boons vouchsafed to thee,

nd scarcely anywhere in like degree.

love, that comes to all; the holy sense,
gift of God, in thee was most intense:
ain of heart, a feeling of the mind,
ider sympathy, which did thee bind
nly to us men, but to thy kind:
for thy fellow-brutes in thee we saw
oul of love, love's intellectual law:

, if we wept, it was not done in shame ;
ars from passion and from reason came,
herefore shalt thou be an honour'd name!

t is good for a bootless bene?"

ese dark words begins my tale;

ir meaning is, "Whence can comfort spring, rayer is of no avail?"

is good for a bootless bene?"

ner to the lady said;

made answer, "Endless sorrow!" new that her son was dead.

-Young Romilly through Barden Woods Is ranging high and low;

And holds a greyhound in a leash,

To let slip upon buck or doe.

And the pair have reach'd that fearful chasm,
How tempting to bestride!

For lordly Wharf is there pent in
With rocks on either side.

This striding-place is call'd "the Strid,"
A name which it took of yore:

A thousand years hath it borne that name,
And shall, a thousand more.

And hither is young Romilly come,

And what may now forbid

That he, perhaps for the hundredth time,
Shall bound across "the Strid?"

He sprang

in glee,-for what cared he

That the river was strong, and the rocks were stoep!

- But the greyhound in the leash hung back,

And check'd him in his leap.

The boy is in the arms of Wharf,

And strangled by a merciless force;

For never more was young Romilly seen

Till he rose a lifeless corse.

Now there is stillness in the vale,
And long unspeaking sorrow:
Wharf shall be, to pitying hearts,
A name more sad than Yarrow.

If for a lover the lady wept,
A solace she might borrow

From death, and from the passion of death;
Old Wharf might heal her sorrow.

She weeps not for the wedding-day

Which was to be to-morrow:

Her hope was a farther-looking hope,
And hers is a mother's sorrow.

He was a tree that stood alone,
And proudly did its branches wave;
And the root of this delightful tree

Was in her husband's grave!

Long, long in darkness did she sit,
And her first words were, "Let there be

In Bolton, on the field of Wharf,

A stately priory!"

The stately priory was rear'd,
And Wharf, as he moved along,
To matins join'd a mournful voice,
Nor fail'd at evensong.

A BARKING sound the shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;

He halts and searches with his eyes
Among the scatter'd rocks:

And now at distance can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen
Glancing from that covert green.

The dog is not of mountain breed ;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy;

With something, as the shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:

Nor is there any one in sight

All round, in hollow or on height;

Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;

What is the creature doing here?

It was a cove, a huge recess,

That keeps till June December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,

A silent tarn* below!

Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;

'rom trace of human foot or hand.

here sometimes doth a leaping fish end through the tarn a lonely cheer; he crags repeat the raven's croak, symphony austere;

ither the rainbow comes-the cloud-d mists that spread the flying shroud; d sunbeams: and the sounding blast, at, if it could, would hurry past, that enormous barrier binds it fast. - free from boding thoughts, a while

Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground;
The appall'd discoverer with a sigh
Looks round, to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The man had fallen, that place of fear!
At length upon the shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear:

He instantly recall'd the name,
And who he was, and whence he came;
Remember'd, too, the very day

On which the traveller pass'd this way.

But hear a wonder, for whose sake
This lamentable tale I tell !

A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.

The dog, which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry,

This dog had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain that since the day
On which the traveller thus had died
The dog had watch'd about the spot,
Or by his master's side:

How nourish'd here through such long time
He knows, who gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate.

ODE TO DUTY.

STERN daughter of the voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou who art victory and law

When empty terrors overawe;

From vain temptations dost set free;

And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity

There are who ask not if thine eye

Be on them; who, in love and truth,

Where no misgiving is, rely

Upon the genial sense of youth:

Glad hearts! without reproach or blot;

Who do thy work, and know it not:

May joy be theirs while life shall last!

And thou, if they should totter, teach them to stand fast !

Serene will be our days and bright,

And happy will our nature be,