Left Phœbe sleeping, and his door unbarr’d;
Nor more returned to that forsaken bed— 210
But lo! the morning came, and he was dead.
Fang and his master side by side were laid
In grim repose—their debt of nature paid!
The master’s hand upon the cur’s cold chest
Was now reclined, and had before been press’d,
As if he search’d how deep and wide the wound
That laid such spirit in a sleep so sound;
And, when he found it was the sleep of death,