The Council of Dogs

by Anonymous

"Then the hound & the Grey-hound both flew at the poodle"

"All you say," quoth the Harrier, "dear coz, is most true,
Yet I think it but just, to give each Dog his due;
So don't be offended if I dare disclose
That you are not gifted, like me, with a nose."
When the Poodle heard this, he laugh'd out aloud,
And all the Curs grinned, who were mixed in the crowd:
Then the Hound and the Grey-hound both flew at the Poodle
And called him a curl-coated Cur, and a noodle—
Poor Poodle was frighten'd at what he had done,
But being himself much addicted to fun,
And having no notion of running by scent,
He could not conceive the Hound seriously meant
To say, that the Grey-hound had no nose at all,
When he'd one twice as long as his own, tho' 'twas small.
"Come have done with your jaw," said the Fox-hound in spleen,
"For how should a foreigner know what you mean?
May-hap he can dance, and I'm sure he can beg;
Let him run me a race, and I'll tye up a leg;
But in hunting, in truth, the Harrier and Beagle,
No more equal us, than the Hawk does the Eagle;
Trotting after a Hare is mere childish play,
It may now and then serve, to kill a dull day.
But we, at sun rise, seek the Fox in the cover,
Drive him often before us, ten counties half over; Sweep wild o'er the hill, or close at his brush
Unchecked thro' the gorse, and the river we rush,
And Phœbus once more must sink down to his nest,
E'er we slacken our chace, or betake us to rest;
So tempting our sport, Men think it atones
For the maiming of limbs and the breaking of bones."
Said the Stag-hound—"All rivalships here I disclaim,
Since for strength, and for speed, so well known is my fame,
That I justly am reckon'd the first amongst hounds:
Yet our chace like the Fox-hounds, with danger abounds,
Nay, is sometimes attended with fatal effects,
As in hunting of Stags, men have broken their necks."
"Oh pray say no more," said a poor meagre cur,
"It grieves me to think men such dangers incur;
To mankind, I'm a friend of the genuine breed,
A friend little known, but in th' hour of need;
By this string round my neck I guide my poor master,
And true to his touch, I go slower or faster;
Oh Pity his sorrows, for he is stone blind,
And without my assistance his way could not find;
But I lead him with caution through Alleys and Streets,
And rejoice to observe the relief that he meets:
And when to our lodging at night we repair,
Of the food he's collected, he gives me a share."

"Then a Spaniel advanced with a courtier-like mien"

Then a Spaniel advanced, with a courtier-like mien,
His manners were gentle, his coat soft, and clean,
His nose was jet black, and his ears were so long,
They swept on the ground, as he passed through the throng,
Thus he spoke—
"We boast to mankind an attachment so pure,
That docile, and patient, their blows we endure:
We can hunt, we can quest, and what's more we can trace
A descent long ennobled by favour and grace;
For our ancestors portraits are still to be seen
With those of the Babes of King Charles and his Queen."
"You boast of your rank, Sir," the Water-dog cried
As he shook his rough coat, that was scarcely yet dried,
"But in sport who with me can compare?—have you seen,
Where the bush-fringed pool is mantled with green,
How I wind, thro' the reeds and the rushes, my way,
And the haunt of the Snipe, or the Mallard betray?
How, when loud sounds the Gun, aroused by the crash }
(As the fall of the victim, is marked by the splash) }
Leaping forward I bear off the prey at a dash?" }
"Tis enough—you have merit—but I think it better
To mention my claims," quoth the feather-tailed Setter.
"The dew of the morn I with rapture inhale,
When check'd in my course, by the scent breathing gale,
In caution low crouching each gesture displays,
Where the covey lies basking, or sportively plays;
My net bearing master I watch as I creep,
Till encircled, the brood is enthralled at a sweep."
The Pointer then rose, and observ'd—"Sir, your trade is
So gentle and quiet, it might suit the ladies,
Poor things who would scream at the sound of a gun,
Which we Pointers consider as part of the fun.
We range the wide fallows, or quarter the stubble,
While the labouring sportsman, alive to each double,
Hails the high stiffen'd tail, and the motionless joint,
And cautiously warns the whole field of the point;
As by magic transfixt, all the signal obey—
With the death dealing tube, he hastes up to his prey."
To the Pointer a bandy leg'd Turnspit replied,
"All you've said, worthy kinsman, cannot be denied,
As to pastimes and sports—but allow me to say
I to men some good turns have done in my day.
When the sportsman returns to his meal, what avail
Your ranging, and pointing, and high stiffen'd tail?
Of your posture so graceful, good Sir, you may boast it;[A]
A quoi bon your game, if I did not roast it?"

A bristly Scotch Terrier, his eyes black and keen,
Thus attack'd the last speaker—"Pray what do you mean?
To boast of your service no longer of use;
If you still roasted meat, there might be some excuse;
But Smoak-jacks, and Rumfords, and other new hits
Ease you (thank the Dog Star) from turning of spits.
But to be in such haste to record your own worth,
And speak before me, a famed dog of the North,
Who all vermine destroy, Mouse, Weazle, or Rat!"
Says the Turnspit—"why so can my mistress's Cat."—
"You crooked leg'd Cur," said the Terrier, "to dare
Such talents as mine, with a Cat's to compare"—
The President Sheep-dog to order now call'd 'em,
('Twas well they grew quiet, or else he'd have maul'd 'em)
He threaten'd the meeting should instantly close—
Here the Pug and the Spaniard, each turn'd up his nose.
But a dapper Barbet, so blithe and so smart,
With his ruffles, and ruff, all shorn with such art,
Tript forward, and said his tricks he would play—
He tumbled,—fetch'd ball,—and down for dead lay,—
Then started alive to defend GEORGE THE THIRD,
While, in pleasure loud barking, their plaudits were heard.
Eight curs, thus encouraged, stepp'd out with delight,
And suddenly rear'd on their hind legs upright,
They bow'd, and they curtsey'd with infinite skill,
And danced on the turf a graceful quadrille.
More Mongrels rush forward, all eager to tell,
How their masters they serve, and in what they excel;
Each follow'd or Pedlar, or Tinker, or Gipsy,
And watch'd o'er the goods, while their masters got tipsy.
The Poacher's-dog trembling, and all in a fright,
Then whisper'd, he follow'd his master by night;
He never gave tongue, he safely could say,
And not telling tales, slunk slyly away.
"Stop a moment, dear Sir, and look not so rueful,
But hearken to me who'm the Dog for a Truffle;
Though your body be thin, and your spirits be low,
Comparisons often will comfort bestow;
Look at me, and acknowledge, that I'm somewhat leaner,
For they famish poor Truffler to make him the keener."

"And watch'd o'er the Goods while their masters got tipsy." p. [10].