Should deem it by our old companion made,
The afs; for he, we know, has lately flray'd,
And being loft, perhaps, and wand'ring wide,
Might be fuppos'd to clamour for a guide.
But, ah! thofe dreadful yells what foul can hear,
That owns a carcafe, and not quake for fear?
Dæmons produce them, doubtlefs, brazen-claw'd
And fang'd with brafs the dæmons are abroad;
I hold it, therefore, wifeft and most fit,
That, life to fave, we leap into the pit.
Him anfwer'd then his loving mate and true,
But more difcreet than he, a Cambrian ewe.
How? leap into the pit our life to fave?
To fave our life leap all into the grave?
For can we find it lefs? Contemplate first
The depth how awful! falling there, we burst;
Or fhould the brambles, interpos'd, our fall
In part abate, that happiness were fmall;
For with a race like theirs no chance I fee
Of peace or eafe to creatures clad as we.
Meantime, noife kills not. Be it Dapple's bray,
Or be it not, or be it whofe it may,
And rush those other founds, that feem by tongues Of dæmons utter'd, from whatever lungs,
Sounds are but founds, and till the caufe appear, We have at leaft commodious ftanding here.
Come, fiend, come, fury, giant, monster, blast
From earth or hell, we can but plunge at last.
While thus fhe fpake, I fainter heard the peals,
For Reynard, close attended at his heels,
By panting dog, tir'd man, and fpatter'd horse,
Through mere good fortune, took a diff'rent courfe.
The flock grew calm again, and I, the road
Following that led me to my own abode,
Much wonder'd that the filly sheep had found
Such cause of terror in an empty found,
So fweet to huntfman, gentleman, and hound.
Beware of defp'rate steps. The darkest day (Live till to-morrow) will have pass'd away.
THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY.
THE noon was fhady, and foft airs
Swept Oufe's filent tide,
When, fcap'd from literary cares,
I wander'd on his fide.
My fpaniel, prettiest of his race,
And high in pedigree,
(Two nymphs*, adorn'd with ev'ry grace, That fpaniel found for me)
Now wanton'd loft in flags and reeds,
Now starting into fight
Purfued the fwallow o'er the meads
With scarce a flower flight.
It was the time when Ouse display'd
His lilies newly blown;
Their beauties I intent furvey'd,
And one I wish'd my own.
*Sir Robert Gunning's daughters.
With cane extended far I fought
To fteer it close to land;
But ftill the prize, though nearly caught, Escap'd my eager hand,
Beau mark'd my unfuccefsful pains
With fixt confid'rate face,
And puzzling fat his puppy brains
To comprehend the cafe.
But with a chirrup clear and strong,
Difperfing all his dream,
I thence withdrew, and follow'd long
The windings of the stream.
My ramble finifh'd, I return'd.
Beau trotting far before
The floating wreath again difcern'd,
And plunging left the shore.
I faw him with that lily cropp'd
Impatient fwim to meet
My quick approach, and foon he dropp'd
The treasure at my feet.
Charm'd with the fight, the world, I cried,
Shall hear of this thy deed,
My dog fhall mortify the pride
Of man's fuperior breed;
But, chief, myfelf I will enjoin,
Awake at duty's call,
To show a love as prompt as thinę
To Him who gives me all.
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