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Tim An Irish Terrier
An Old Dog
Hamish A Scotch Terrier
You're A Dog
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Fidele's Grassy Tomb
Rhapsody On A Dog's Intelligence
The Power Of The Dog
To Tim An Irish Terrier
An Extract From Inscription On The Monument Of A Newfoundland Dog
Remarks To My Grown-up Pup
To A Terrier
The Monarch saw the gambols flag,
And bade let loose a gallant stag,
Whose pride, the holiday to crown,
Two favorite greyhounds should pull down,
That venison free, and Bordeaux wine,
Might serve the archery to dine.
But Lufra,--whom from Douglas' side
Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide,
The fleetest hound in all the North,--
Brave Lufra saw and darted forth.
She left the royal hounds mid way,
And dashing on the antlered prey,
Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank,
And deep the flowing life-blood drank.
The King's stout huntsman saw the sport
By strange intruder broken short,
Came up, and with his leash unbound,
In anger struck the noble hound.
--The Douglas had endured, that morn,
The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn,
And last, and worst to spirit proud,
Had borne the pity of the crowd;
But Lufra had been fondly bred,
To share his board, to watch his bed,
And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck,
In maiden glee with garlands deck;
They were such playmates, that with name
Of Lufra, Ellen's image came.
His stifled wrath is brimming high,
In darkened brow and flashing eye;
As waves before the bark divide,
The crowd gave way before his stride;
Needs but a buffet and no more,
The groom lies senseless in his gore.
Such blow no other hand could deal
Though gauntleted in glove of steel.
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