This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain his private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.
Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.
The wound it seem'd both sore and sad
To every Christian eye:
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.
But soon a wonder came to light,
That show'd the rogues they lied,
The man recover'd of the bite,
The dog it was that died.
EDWIN AND ANGELINA
'Turn, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
To where yon taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray.
'For here forlorn and lost I tread,
With fainting steps and slow;
Where wilds immeasurably spread,
Seem lengthening as I go.'
'Forbear, my son,' the hermit cries,
'To tempt the dangerous gloom;
For yonder phantom only flies
To lure thee to thy doom.
'Here, to the houseless child of want,
My door is open still:
And though my portion is but scant,
I give it with goodwill.