"Hellhound! my child's by thee devour'd,"

The frantic father cried;

And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plung'd in Gêlert's side.

His suppliant looks, as prone he fell,
No pity could impart ;

But still his Gêlert's dying yell
Pass'd heavy o'er his heart.

Arous'd by Gêlert's dying yell,

Some slumb'rer waken'd nigh ;— What words the parent's joy could tell To hear his infant's cry!

Conceal'd beneath a tumbled heap

His hurried search had miss'd, All glowing from his rosy sleep, The cherub boy he kissed.

Nor scath had he, nor harm, nor dread;
But, the same couch beneath,
Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead,
Tremendous still in death.

Ah, what was then Llewelyn's pain!
For now the truth was clear;

His gallant hound the wolf had slain,
To save Llewelyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewelyn's woe:

"Best of thy kind, adieu!

The frantic blow which laid thee low,
This heart shall ever rue."

And now a gallant tomb they raise,
With costly sculpture deck'd;
And marbles storied with his praise
Poor Gêlert's bones protect.

There never could the spearman pass,
Or forester, unmov'd;

There, oft the tear-besprinkled grass
Llewelyn's sorrow prov'd.

And there he hung his horn and spear,

And there, as evening fell,

In fancy's ear, he oft would hear
Poor Gêlert's dying yell.

And, till great Snowdon's rocks grow old,
And cease the storm to brave,
The consecrated spot shall hold
The name of "Gêlert's grave."

Robert William Spencer.

The Author's Address to his Auld Dog Hector

OME, my auld, towzy, trusty friend,

COM

What gars ye look sae dung wi' wae?
D'ye think my favour's at an end,
Because thy head is turnin' gray?

Although thy strength begins to fail,
Its best was spent in serving me;
An' can I grudge thy wee bit meal,
Some comfort in thy age to gie?

For mony a day, frae sun to sun,

We've toiled fu' hard wi' ane anither, An' mony a thousand mile thou'st run,

To keep my thraward flock thegither.

To nae thrawn boy nor naughty wife
Shall thy auld banes become a drudge;

At cats an' callans a' thy life

You ever bor'st a mortal grudge.

An' whiles thy surly look declared
Thou lo'ed the women warst of a'
Because my love wi' thee they shared,
A matter out o' right or law.

When sittin' wi' my bonny Meg,

Mair happy than a prince could be, Thou placed'st thee by her other leg, An' watched her wi' a jealous e'e.

An' then at ony start or flare,

Thou wad'st hae worried furiouslye ; While I was forced to curse an' swear, Afore thou wad'st forbidden be.

Yet wad she clasp thy towzy paw;

Thy gruesome grips were never skaithly; An' thou than her hast been mair true, An' truer than the friend that gae thee.

Ah me! o' fashion, self, an' pride,

Mankind hae read me sic a lecture! But yet it's a' in part repaid

By thee, my faithful, grateful Hector !

O'er past imprudence, oft alane

I've shed the saut an' silent tear;

Then sharin' a' my grief an' pain,

My poor auld friend came snoovin' near.

For a' the days we've sojourned here,

An' they've been neither fine nor few, That thought possest thee year to year, That a' my griefs arose frae you.

Wi' waesome face an' hingin' head,

Thou wad'st hae pressed thee to my knee;

While I thy looks as weel could read,

As thou had'st said in words to me ;

"O my dear master, dinna greet ;

What hae I ever done to vex thee? See here I'm cowrin' at your feet;

Just take my life, if I perplex thee.

"For a' my toil, my wee drap meat
Is a' the wage I ask of thee;
For whilk I'm oft obliged to wait
Wi' hungry wame an' patient e'e.

"Whatever wayward course ye steer; Whatever sad mischance o'ertake ye; Man, here is ane will hold ye dear!

Man, here is ane will ne'er forsake ye!"

Yes, my puir beast, though friends me scorn,
Whom mair than life I valued dear;

An' throw me out to fight forlorn,
Wi' ills my heart do hardly bear,--

While I hae thee to bear a part—

My health, my plaid, an' heezle rung,I'll scorn th' unfeeling haughty heart, The saucy look, and slanderous tongue.

Some friends, by pop'lar envy swayed,
Are ten times waur than ony foe!
My heart was theirs: an' to them laid
As open as the light o' day.