His master’s flocks were feeding there,
And, fearful of the hounds, he yelping stood
Beneath a willow Tree, that wav’d across the flood.
XII.
Old Trim was urg’d to wrath; for he
Was guardian of the meadow bounds;
And, heedless of the company,
With angry snarl attack’d the hounds!
Some felt his teeth, though they were old,
For still his ire was fierce and bold,