What was passing—as cows very naturally do—
When she saw at a glance the true state of the case,
And she told the Dog plainly he'd soon end his race
Unless he desisted to torture and plot
The ruin of each beast in the National Lot.
But the Dog was transformed! and a demon was there,
Incarnate and hidden, beneath the whelp's hair;
Divinity issued its fiat of Fate,
And the dog-fiend stood ready to launch forth its hate.
With demoniac rage, and a terrible roar,