The Dog's Book of Verse Part 14

As you had lived, good dog, you died, And it is meet The flag you served your best should be Your winding sheet.

WILLIAM J. LAMPTON.

A GUARDIAN AT THE GATE

The dog beside the threshold lies, Mocking sleep with half-shut eyes-- With head crouched down upon his feet, Till strangers pa.s.s his sunny seat-- Then quick he p.r.i.c.ks his ears to hark And bustles up to growl and bark; While boys in fear stop short their song, And sneak in startled speed along; And beggar, creeping like a snail, To make his hungry hopes prevail O'er the warm heart of charity, Leaves his lame halt and hastens by.

JOHN CLARE.

A TALE OF THE REIGN OF TERROR

'Twas in a neighboring land what time The Reign of Terror triumphed there, And every horrid shape of crime Stalked out from murder's b.l.o.o.d.y lair.

'Twas in those dreadful times there dwelt In Lyons, the defiled with blood, A loyal family that felt The earliest fury of the flood.

Wife, children, friends, it swept away From wretched Valrive, one by one, Himself severely doomed to stay Till everything he loved was gone.

A man proscribed, whom not to shun Was danger, almost fate, to brave, So all forsook him, all save one-- One faithful, humble, powerless slave.

His dog, old Nina. She had been, When they were boys, his children's mate, His gallant Claude, his mild Eugene, Both gone before him to their fate.

They spurned her off--but evermore, Surmounting e'en her timid nature, Love brought her to the prison door, And there she crouched, fond, faithful creature!

Watching so long, so piteously, That e'en the jailor--man of guilt, Of rugged heart--was moved to cry, "Poor wretch, there enter if thou wilt."

And who than Nina more content When she had gained that dreary cell Where lay in helpless dreariment The master loved so long and well?

And when into his arms she leapt In her old fond, familiar way, And close into his bosom crept, And licked his face--a feeble ray

Of something--not yet comfort--stole Upon his heart's stern misery, And his lips moved, "Poor loving fool!

Then all have not abandoned me."

The hour by grudging kindness spared Expired too soon--the friends must part-- And Nina from the prison gazed, With lingering pace and heavy heart.

Shelter, and rest, and food she found With one who, for the master's sake, Though grim suspicion stalked around, Dared his old servant home to take.

Beneath that friendly roof, each night She stayed, but still returning day-- Ay, the first beam of dawning light Beheld her on her anxious way.

Towards the prison, there to await The hour when through that dismal door The keeper, half compa.s.sionate, Should bid her enter as before.

And well she seemed to comprehend The time appointed for her stay, The little hour that with her friend She tarried there was all her day.

At last the captive's summons came; They led him forth his doom to hear; No tremor shook his thrice-nerved frame Whose heart was dead to hope and fear.

So with calm step he moved along, And calmly faced the murderous crew, But close and closer for the throng, Poor Nina to her master drew.

And she has found a resting place Between his knees--her old safe home-- And she looks round in every face As if to read his written doom.

'Twas but a step in those dread days From trial to the guillotine; A moment, and Valrive surveys With steadfast eye the fell machine.

He mounts the platform, takes his stand Before the fatal block, and kneels In preparation--but his hand A soft warm touch that moment feels.

His eyes glance downward, and a tear-- The last tear they shall ever shed-- Falls as he utters, "Thou still here!"

Upon his faithful servant's head.

Yes, she is there; that h.e.l.lish shout, That deadly stroke, she hears them plain, And from the headless trunk starts out Even over her the b.l.o.o.d.y rain.

Old faithful Nina! There lies she, Her cold head on the cold earth pressed, As it was wont so lovingly To lie upon her master's breast.

And there she stayed the livelong day, Mute, motionless, her sad watch keeping; A stranger who had pa.s.sed that way Would have believed her dead or sleeping.

But if a step approached the grave Her eye looked up with jealous care, Imploringly, as if to crave That no rude foot should trample there.

That night she came not, as of late, To her old, charitable home; The next day's sun arose and set, Night fell--and still she failed to come.

Then the third day her pitying host Went kindly forth to seek his guest, And found her at her mournful post, Stretched quietly as if at rest.

Yet she was not asleep nor dead, And when her master's friend she saw, The poor old creature raised her head, And moaned, and moved one feeble paw.

But stirred not thence--and all in vain He called, caressed her, would have led-- Tried threats--then coaxing words again-- Brought food--she turned away her head.

So with kind violence at last He bore her home with gentle care; In her old shelter tied her fast, Placed food beside and left her there.

But ere the hour of rest, again He visited the captive's shed, And there the cord lay, gnawed in twain-- The food untasted--she was fled.

And, vexed, he cried, "Perverse old creature!

Well, let her go. I've done my best."

But there was something in his nature, A feeling that would not let him rest.

So with the early light once more Toward the burial ground went he; And there he found her as before, But not, as then, stretched quietly.

For she had worked the long night through, In the strong impulse of despair, Down, down into the grave--and now, Panting and weak, still laboured there.

But death's cold, stiffening frost benumbs Her limbs, and clouds her heavy eye-- And hark! her feeble moan becomes A shriek of human agony.

As if before her task was over She feared to die in her despair.

But see! those last faint strokes uncover A straggling lock of thin grey hair.

One struggle, one convulsive start, And there the face beloved lies-- Now be at peace, thou faithful heart!

She licks the livid lips, and dies.