And all around the walls and ground He called his child no voice replied; He searched Blood! blood! he found on every side, "Monster, by thee my child's devoured!" The frantic father cried, And to the hilt his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side. Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, His hurried search had missed: All glowing from his rosy sleep, Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread; But the same couch beneath Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead Tremendous still in death. Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain! The gallant hound the wolf had slain Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe The frantic deed which laid thee low And now a gallant tomb they raise, Here never could the spearman pass, Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass And here he hung his horn and spear; In fancy's piercing sounds would hear Poor Gelert's dying yell. SPENSER. LOOKING FOR PEARLS. AN ORIENTAL LEGEND. The Master came one evening to the gate Another, jeering, asked, "How long to-night Shall such a miscreant cur offend our sight? "Look at his torn hide," sneered a Jewish wit, "You could not cut even a shoe from it," And turned away. "Behold his ears that bleed," A fourth chimed in; 66 an unclean wretch indeed! "He hath been hanged for thieving," they all cried, And spurned the loathsome beast from side to side. Then Jesus, standing by them in the street, Looked on the poor spent creature at his feet, And, bending o'er him, spake unto the men, "Pearls are not whiter than his teeth." And then The people at each other gazed, asking, "Who is this stranger pitying the vile thing?" ROVER. “Kind traveller, do not pass me by, But stop a moment on your way, My name is Rover; yonder house Was once my home for many a year; My master loved me; every hand Caressed young Rover, far and near. The children rode upon my back, As round my shaggy sides they clung. "I watched them while they played or slept; I gave them all I had to give: My strength was theirs from morn till night; For them I only cared to live. "Now I am old, and blind, and lame, They 've turned me out to die alone, Without a shelter for my head, Without a scrap of bread or bone. "This morning I can hardly crawl, While shivering in the snow and hail; My teeth are dropping, one by one; I scarce have strength to wag my tail. "I'm palsied grown with mortal pains, My withered limbs are useless now; My voice is almost gone you see, And I can hardly make my bow. "Perhaps you 'll lead me to a shed Where I may find some friendly straw On which to lay my aching limbs, And rest my helpless, broken paw. "Stranger, excuse this story long, And pardon, pray, my last appeal ; You've owned a dog yourself, perhaps, And learned that dogs, like men, can feel.” Yes, poor old Rover, come with me; Food, with warm shelter, I'll supply; And Heaven forgive the cruel souls Who drove you forth to starve and die! J. T. FIELDS. 66 My dear dumb friend, low lying there, I look into your great brown eyes, For all of good that I have found I scan the whole broad earth around I trust you as I trust the stars; |