Classic Poem

VII

" First of the mournful sights, I saw
Our flocks fly bleating from a hound,
And many a one his savage jaw
Dragged bleeding to the ground.

" The rest sought shelter in despair,
And in a brake were robbed and torn;
The cruel hound had an ally there
In every brier and thorn.

" In nightmare chains my feet were set,
For I could neither move nor scream: —
Oh, Leon, it makes me tremble yet,
Although 'twas but a dream!

" anon I struggled forth, and took
From off our mastiff's neck the chain;
He leaped the gate, he leaped the brook,
And snarled across the plain.

" Then how they fought! My sight grew dim,
In straining to the field remote:
At length he threw that bloodhound grim,
And held him by the throat!