And you'll observe his neck is almost stiff
With turning round to try and get a sniff,
As now and then a whiff,
Charged from behind, a transient savour throws,
That curls with hope the corners of his nose,
Then all too quickly goes,
And leaves him buried in conjectures dark,
Developed in a sort of muffled bark.
For I need scarce remark
That that sagacious dog hath often guess'd