Classic Poem

What tho' of Quadrupedian race,
Unknown to measure and to rhyme,
For once the tuneful line I trace,
And shape my paw to strains sublime:
And know, at least, a dog like me,
Unknown to flatt'ry and to art,
No subtle sycophant shall be —
He growls the dictates of his heart!

In vain the flow'ry plain I tread,
In vain the tyrant gate I clear,
Or try the slender Greyhound's speed,
When lo! the tim'rous prey is near.
In clumsy dignity erect,
In vain thro' tangled paths I roam,
Whilst vagrants view me with respect,
And ling'ring twilight guides me home.

In vain I hoped, with fervent zeal,
My nobler namesake to attend;
And oh! what joy wou'd L YON feel,
To feel the sanction of a friend!
To guide thee thro' the thorny brake,
To watch thee o'er the marshy moor:
For thee I'd ford th' unfathom'd lake,
And rushing streams, untried before.

O'er labour'd fence I'd lightly vault,
Tho' ne'er design'd such feats to share;
And glorious then, is Nature's fault,
When friendship shall that fault repair! —
When cool September casts its light,
And Dog days scorch the earth no more,
When trees with yellow tinge delight,
And plains unshelter'd I explore.

Then will I learn the Pointer's art —
I'll guide thee to the fav'rite spot;
Thy gun such terrors shall impart,
No Partridge lives who fears it not!
And when, with lengthen'd sport opprest,
Thy weary steps shall homeward bend,
Till prove a manageable guest,
And court thy fav'rite and thy friend!

A L YON once, of dauntless breed,
At U NA 's feet his station took;
From caitiff Knights, the nymph he freed,
And ne'er that honour'd post forsook: —
Know! — from that L YON , frank and bold,
In lineage strait, I surely came,
And wonders cou'd this Paw unfold,
To mark me for a Dog of F AME !

That blood which warm'd my grandsire's heart,
Inspires me with the noblest pride;
Unbrib'd, my friendship I impart,
And love the Truth, for which he died!
But, since in vain I howl my care,
And Devon's wilds thy face must see;
Will e'er Remembrance reach thee there,
To think on absent friends — and me?

Perchance, — some spaniel, neat and trim,
With curling ears and spotted coat, —
Unthinking! — Thou canst smile on him,
Who learns his fawning task by rote.
Some Greyhound, with beseeching look;
Perchance, some Terrier shall pursue —
Shall rouze thee from thy fav'rite book,
And ev'n his follies please thee too!

Whilst, nobly as I'm born and bred,
I waste inglorious hapless years,
By menial hands I'm daily fed,
And chatt'ring females stun my ears:
Nor e'er thy E DMUND shall I view —
No flutt'ring beaux I wish to see;
But sure, if Fame can once be true,
That man's a soul to honour me!

But No! — to these sequester'd walls,
My tow'ring genius is confin'd,
And yet, when stately L YON falls,
This tribute shall remain behind.

And thou — ungrateful as thou art!
When doom'd thy exit here to make,
If Fate permits, I'll play my part,
And guide thee through the Stygian Lake.