Waiting his master’s company,
And looking wistfully around;
And if, along the upland mead,
He heard him tune the merry reed,
O, then! o’er hedge and ditch, thro’ brake and briar,
The Shepherd’s dog would haste, with eyes that seem’d on fire.
IX.
And now he pac’d the valley, free,
And now he bounded o’er the dew,
For well his master’s company