University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

collapse section
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE FATE OF AN INNOCENT DOG.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE FATE OF AN INNOCENT DOG.

When Tiger left his native yard,
He did not many ills regard,

70

A fleet and harmless cur;
Indeed he was a trusty dog,
And did not through the pasture prog,
The grazing flock to stir, poor dog.
The grazing flocks to stir.
He through a field by chance was led
In quest of game, not far ahead,
And made one active leap,
When all at once, alarmed, he espied
A creature weltering on its side,
A deadly wounded sheep, alas!
A deadly wounded sheep.
He there was filled with sudden fear,
Apprised of lurking danger near,
And there he left his trail;
Indeed, he was afraid to yelp,
Nor could he grant the creature help,
But wheeled and dropped his tail, poor dog,
But wheeled and dropped his tail.
It was his pastime, pride and fun,
At morn the nimble hare to run,
When frost was on the grass;
Returning home, who should he meet,
The wether's owner coming fleet,
Who scorned to let him pass, alas!
Who scorned to let him pass.
Tiger could but his bristles raise,
A surly complement he pays,
Insulted shows his wrath,
Returns a just defensive growl,
And does not turn aside to prowl,
But onward keeps the path, poor dog!
But onward keeps the path.

71

The raging owner found the brute,
But could afford no recruit,
Nor raise it up to stand;
'Twas mangled by some other dogs,
A set of detrimental rogues,
Raised up at no command, alas!
Raised up at no command.
Sagacious tiger left his bogs,
But lure the blame of other dogs,
With powder, fire and ball;
They killed the poor unlawful game,
And then came back and eat the same,
But tiger paid for all, poor dog,
But tiger paid for all.
Let every harmless dog beware
Lest he be taken in the snare;
And scorn such fields to roam,
A creature may be frought with grace,
And suffer for the vile and base,
By straggling off from home, alas!
By straggling off from home.
The blood of creatures oft is spilt,
Who die without a shade of guilt—
Look out or cease to roam—
Whilst up and down the world he plays,
For pleasure, man, in danger strays
Without a friend from home, alas!
Without a friend from home.