XXIV.

FIDELITY.

A BARKING Sound the Shepherd hears,

A cry as of a Dog or Fox;

He halts, and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:

And now at distance can discern

A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a Dog is seen,
Glancing from that covert green.

The Dog is not of mountain breed;

Its motions, too, are wild and shy;
With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:

Nor is there any one in sight

All round, in Hollow or on Height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
What is the Creature doing here?

It was a Cove, a huge Recess,

That keeps till June December's snow

A lofty Precipice in front,

A silent Tarn* below!

Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,

Remote from public Road or Dwelling,

Pathway, or cultivated land;

From trace of human foot or hand.

There, sometimes does a leaping Fish
Send through the Tarn a lonely cheer;
The Crags repeat the Raven's croak,
In symphony austere;

Thither the Rainbow comes-the Cloud

And Mists that spread the flying shroud;
And Sun-beams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past,

But that enormous Barrier binds it fast.

* Tarn is a small Mere or Lake mostly high up in the mountains.

Not free from boding thoughts, awhile
The Shepherd stood: then makes his way
Towards the Dog, o'er rocks and stones,
As quickly as he may;

Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground;
The appalled Discoverer with a sigh
Looks round, to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The Man had fallen, that place of fear!
At length upon the Shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear:

He instantly recalled the Name,

And who he was, and whence he came;
Remembered, too, the very day

On which the Traveller passed this way.

But hear a wonder, for whose sake

This lamentable Tale I tell!

A lasting monument of words

This wonder merits well.

The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,

Repeating the same timid cry,

This Dog had been through three months' space

A Dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain that since the day

On which the Traveller thus had died

The Dog had watched about the spot,
Or by his Master's side:

How nourished here through such long time
He knows, who gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling, great

Above all human estimate.

XXV.

ODE TO DUTY.

STERN Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a Light to guide, a Rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou who art victory and law

When empty terrors overawe;

From vain temptations dost set free;

And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!

There are who ask not if thine eye

Be on them; who, in love and truth,

Where no misgiving is, rely

Upon the genial sense of youth:

Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot;
Who do thy work, and know it not:

May joy be theirs while life shall last!

And Thou, if they should totter, teach them to stand fast!