University of Virginia Library

DEATH OF DOBBIN

At days mid hour when weary labour stops
& neath the shade of ash or hazel drops
To eat his bread & rest him for awhile
Fit strength recruiting for resuming toil
Old nathan wanderd to the pasture side
Were worn out dobbin tother morning dyd
He knew him well & many a weary morn
With dobbins aid had scores of furrows drawn
& like old parted friends his tear was shed
While noisey magpys chatterd oer his head
That seemly scolded an unwelcome guest
Whose feard intrusions stopt their mangling feast
He bended oer the bones & with a sigh
Recounted thus the merits that was bye
‘Poor faithfull dob[b]in I regret to see
‘The last sad end of such a horse as thee
‘For every drop of thine was noble blood
‘Nor didst thou own a hair but what was good
‘In every ploughman thou a friend coudst win
‘One idle bone neer harbourd in thy skin
‘Thou never needed whipping no not thou
‘Words were enough when yokd to cart or plough
‘How ever cruel boys thy worth might see
‘Toils urging weapons neer was meant for thee
‘At cart & plough when thou wast young & stout
‘Ive been thy maytey many a year about
‘& never did I find the whol[e] day long
‘One shifty trick to need the drivers thong
‘At rough or smooth old dobbin was the horse
‘To take it gently or to use his force
‘When elted deep in mirey lanes & roads
‘No whips was needed to remove the loads
‘Not they indeed good words & gentle ways
‘Were quite sufficient in thy younger days
‘& tho good corn might others make as stout
‘A better horse was never harnessd out
‘Thy heart was willing & to yield too good
‘& tho a cart horse bay thoudst best of blood
‘Ive tryd thy utmost courage in its prime
‘& never known it fail a single time
‘When all have faild were heavy loads was stall'd
‘& thou the stay of all the team was call'd
‘For all at pinching jobs the farm about
‘Sought thy old courage boy to help em out
‘Nor sooner was thou yokd & their fond pride
‘Had clapt its praises on thy sleeky side
‘Then all the trying force thy strength decreed
‘Fell too as willing as yed gone to feed
‘Pull after pull with but a single word
‘& wind & at it of thy own accord
‘Repeated trials urgd in vain to flinch
‘What ere was gaind thou never lost an inch
‘& soon if equal to thy strength it provd
‘The load wer loosend & all doubts removd
‘& if long pulling showd the match too much
‘Thy spirit dobbin in extreems was such
‘That if Ill bound uncheckd in luckless hours
‘Theyd left thee grappling wi unequal powers
‘When worn fatigued upon yer knees yed dropt
‘& tuggl'd at it till yer breath'd bin stopt
‘& ere yed yielded boy I know yer pride
‘Yer heart yed bursted neath the load & dyd
‘& thou at other works wer still as good
‘First rate in most the name of dob[b]in stood
‘At lighter jobbs that gentler ways require
‘Thou still woudst do them to the hearts desire
‘& tho so turbulent when strength wer claimd
‘A gentler soul then dobbin cant be namd
‘Mild as a lamb a very child might guide
‘& walk undangerd by his gentle side
‘Thou from our wenches dob near faild of praise
‘For faithful steadiness on market days
‘Thou might lack speed but none had safer legs
‘For brittle loads of butter & of eggs
‘& tho of time thou needed greater share
‘& on thy journey neer had much to spare
‘Yer trusty safty rarely known to fall
‘Oer stones & ruts made recompence for all
‘Ye never rund away nor turnd askew
‘From sheep or shadows as a many do
‘Nor woud ye hazard dangers ways so cheap
‘Were nothing tempted ye to urge a leap
‘No spur ere made coud make Ill answer fort
‘Ye risk the hazard of your neck for nought
‘No trifle frit ye & Ill bound a mile
‘Ye'd sooner go then shortn't oer a stile
‘So maids on dobbin knew themselves secure
‘& lovd his slowness as it provd so sure
‘I always lovd thee boy & love thee still
‘& cannot praise too much say what I will
‘For Ive with thee done many a hardy job
‘& felt well suited if I had but dob
‘Wi out a driver Ive gone plough wi thee
‘& thurrows drawn as straight as lines coud be
‘For e'ery servant boasted in the pride
‘To be wi dobbins usfull aid supplyd
‘To have him in their teams for well they knew
‘A horses worth that coud be trusted too
‘Those days are past & dobbin thou art dead
‘On the same pasture were thoust often fed
‘& oft as tented on this self same plain
‘Were oer thee now I tell my tale in vain
‘Ive markd thee dob full many a youthful day
‘To kick & gallop in thy wanton play
‘While thy bright skin betrayd the feeds of corn
‘Which I cribd for thee every night & morn
‘Tho partners had their share—I none woud pine
‘But a spare quartern always doubld thine
‘& thou Ill answer fort deservd the bait
‘& none that knew thee will be shamd to sayt
‘A better horse then thee neer pulld at rack
‘Nor was gears lifted oer a worthier back
‘Nor will a collar witness stauncher blood
‘Then thines bin dobbin be they ere so good
‘Tho on the pasture now thy carcass lies
‘The mangling sport of croaking crows & pies—
‘Tho thoud some failings dobbin so have all
‘But then to call em faults there most too small
‘In thy young days full often when at morn
‘Ive fetchd thee up from pasture to thy corn
‘Ive missd thee from the rest on tresspass strayd
‘While faithless dews thy footing tracks betrayd
‘Full fond of toothsome bits thou oft was found
‘In lawless plunderings on a neighbours ground
‘& spite of stiffnd joints from toil & sweat
‘& sharp rebukes thy meddlings often met
‘Tho in thy toils the gentlest slave on earth
‘& heavy heeld a carter from thy birth
‘Woud often blunder thro the fences way
‘To taste a stack of clover or of hay
‘Boys whips might switch thee wi unwelcom hits
‘But I near chid thee for thy pilferd bits
‘Nor didst thou fear me dobbin in the least
‘When ere I catchd thee at thy savory feast
‘Thou knew old friends that never usd thee ill
‘& neighd a welcome & stood eating still
‘& while the rest was driving on before
‘Woud cheerly follow to the stable door
‘I never knew it sin thy name I knew
‘To prove thee skewish from the halters view
‘No fickleness was never known in dob
‘Prefering freedom to a hardy job
‘But now old boy thourt lost to toil & me
‘& crows & pies to pick thy bones are free
‘& thou I says thoust bin a worthy slave
‘& did I own thee thou shoudst find a grave
‘Free from the crews that worn out worth devours
‘But thourt not mine & all is past my powers
‘I can but praise thee dob & mourn thy fate
‘& that Ill do while tongue I have to say't
‘Poor dobbin’—here he pausd & lookd around
& markd his master in a distant ground
Which dampt at once his praises & his pains
& urgd him hastening to his toils again
Tho oft he turnd back looks upon his mate
& sighd repeatings on his partners fate
Whose name full oft in unheard mutterings fell
‘Poor dobbin worthy dobbin fare thee well’
The pies & crows that watchd in neighbouring shade
At nats retreat a joyful chattering made
Left free once more upon his bones to feast
The common end of many a worthy beast