Charm'd with the sight, “The world,' I cried, • Shall hear of this thy deed ; My dog shall mortify the pride Of man's superior breed ; Awake at duty's call, ine To Him who gives me all.' W. COWPER. To Flush, my Dog LOVING friend, the gift of one, Through thy lower nature ; Gentle fellow-creature ! Either side demurely, Of thy body purely. Alchemise its dulness,- With a burnished fulness. Kindling, growing larger, - Leaping like a charger. Canopied in fringes. Leap—those tasselled ears of thine Down their golden inches. That I praise thy rareness ! And this glossy fairness. Day and night unweary, - Round the sick and dreary. Beam and breeze resigning-. Love remains for shining. Other dogs in thymy dew Tracked the hares and followed through Sunny moor or meadowThis dog only, crept and crept Next a languid cheek that slept, Sharing in the shadow. Other dogs of loyal cheer Bounded at the whistle clear, Up the woodside hieing- Or a louder sighing. Or a sigh came double,- In a tender trouble. And this dog was satisfied, Down his dewlaps sloping, - On the palm left open. Than such chamber-keeping, Come out !'praying from the door, Presseth backward as before, Up against me leaping. Therefore to this dog will I, Tenderly not scornfully, Render praise and favour ! With my hand upon his head, Is my benediction said Therefore, and for ever. Often, man or woman, Leaning from my Human. Sugared milk make fat thee ! Pleasures wag on in thy tailHands of gentle motions fail Nevermore, to pat thee ! Downy pillow take thy head, Silken coverlid bestead, Sunshine help thy sleeping ! No fly's buzzing wake thee upNo man break thy purple cup, Set for drinking deep in. Whiskered cats arointed flee, Sturdy stoppers keep from thee Cologne distillations ! Nuts lie in thy path for stones, Turn to daily rations ! Thou art made so straitly, Thou who lovest greatly. Pervious to thy nature,- MRS. BROWNING. Alice Brand I in cry, MERRY it is in the good greenwood, When the mavis and merle are singing, When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are And the hunter's horn is ringing. you ; As outlaws wont to do ! 'O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright, And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, Thy brother bold I slew. The hand that held the glaive, And stakes to fence our cave. “And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, That wont on harp to stray, To keep the cold away.'— 'Twas but a fatal chance : And fortune sped the lance. Nor thou the crimson sheen, As gay the forest-green. And lost thy native land, And he his Alice Brand.' II a 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, Lord Richard's axe is ringing. Who wonn'd within the hill,- His voice was ghostly shrill. “Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Our moonlight circle's screen ? Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? The fairies' fatal green ? For thou wert christen'd man : For mutter'd word or ban. 6 |