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22
THE BEGGAR's DOG.
Ye pamper'd favourites of base mankind,Whether with riches poor, or learning blind,
From your distracted views oh pause awhile,
And hear a brother's tale without a smile;
And let contrition note how much is due
To all the generous cares I owe to you.
Whilst fatt'ning pomp secure in cumb'rous state
His scanty crumbs withheld, and barr'd his gate,
Nor sullen deign'd with scorn's averted eye
The cheaper tribute of a selfish sigh,
The neediest suppliant of sorrow's train
For bread I hungering saught, and saught in vain;
Each petty solace thus by you deny'd,
With sleepless watch Fidelio supplied,
When Winter wet with rain my trembling beard,
My falling tear he felt, my groan he heard,
When my grey locks at night the wild wind rent,
Like wither'd moss upon a monument,
What could he more, against the pitiless storm
He lent his little aid to keep me warm?
Even now as parting with his latest breath,
He feels the thrilling grasp of coming death,
With all that fond fidelity of face,
That marks the features of his honest race,
His half-uplifted eye in vain he moves,
And gasps to lick the helpless hand he loves—
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