168 SELECT POETRY

And should the morning light disclose
Its towers amid the snow,

To him ’twould be a mournful sight—
He had not strength to go.

Valour could arm no mortal man
That night to meet the storm—

No glow of pity could have kept
A human bosom warm.

But obedience to a master’s will
Had taught the Dog! to roam,
And through the terrors of the waste,
To fetch the wanderer home.

And if, it be too much to say
That pity gave him speed,

‘Tis sure he not unwillingly
Performed the generous deed.

For now he listens—and anon
He scents the distant breeze,
And casts a keen and anxious look
On every speck he sees.

And now deceived he darts along,
As if he trod the air-—

Then disappointed, droops his head
With more than human care.

He never loiters by the way,
Nor lays him down to rest,

1 The hospitable monks keep a number of wild-looking
but sagacious dogs, which they send forth in stormy weather
to reacue travellers.