Classic Poem

Though faithful to a proverb we regard
The midnight chieftain of the farmer's yard,
Beneath whose guardianship all hearts rejoice,
Woke by the echo of his hollow voice;
Yet as the Hound may fault'ring quit the pack,
Snuff the foul scent, and hasten yelping back;
And e'en the docile Pointer know disgrace,
Thwarting the gen'ral instinct of his race;
E'en so the Mastiff, or the meaner cur,
At times will from the path of duty err
(A pattern of fidelity by day,
By night a murderer, lurking for his prey),
And round the pastures or the fold will creep,
And, coward-like, attack the peaceful sheep.
Alone the wanton mischief he pursues,
Alone in reeking blood his jaw imbrues;
Chasing amain his frightened victims round,
Till death in wild confusion strews the ground;
Then, wearied out, to kennel sneaks away,
And licks his guilty paws till break of day.