The owner found his sole resource His servants and his dog to curse. 'You useless puppy, better drown'd! Why did you not your 'larum sound?' 'Why did you not the evil shun,' Quoth Towser, 'as you might have done? If you, whose interest was more, Could sleep and leave an open door, Think you that I, a dog at best, Would watch, and lose my precious rest?' This pithy speech had been, in truth, Good logic in a master's mouth; But, coming from a menial's lip, It even lack'd the lawyership To save poor Towser from the whip. O thou who head'st a family, (An honour never grudged by me,) Thou art a patriarch unwise, To sleep, and trust another's eyes. Thyself shouldst go to bed the last, Thy doors all seen to, shut and fast. I charge you never let a fox see Your special business done by proxy. [4] Abstemius. [5] _Atrides_.--Atreus, or Atrides, king of Mycenae, and grandfather of Agamemnon. He caused his brother Theyestes to banquet on the flesh of his own children. After the repast, proceeds the story, the arms and heads of the murdered children were produced to convince Theyestes of what he had feasted on; and at the deed "the sun shrunk back in his course." IV.--THE MOGUL'S DREAM.[6] Long since, a Mogul saw, in dream, A vizier in Elysian bliss; No higher joy could be or seem, Or purer, than was ever his. Elsewhere was dream'd of by the same A wretched hermit wrapp'd in flame, Whose lot e'en touch'd, so pain'd was he, The partners of his misery. Was Minos[7] mock'd? or had these ghosts, By some mistake, exchanged their posts? Surprise at this the vision broke; The dreamer suddenly awoke. Some mystery suspecting in it, He got a wise one to explain it. Replied the sage interpreter, 'Let not the thing a marvel seem: There is a meaning in your dream: If I have aught of knowledge, sir, It covers counsel from the gods. While tenanting these clay abodes, This vizier sometimes gladly sought The solitude that favours thought; Whereas, the hermit, in his cot, Had longings for a vizier's lot.' To this interpretation dared I add, The love of solitude I would inspire. It satisfies the heart's desire With unencumber'd gifts and glad-- Heaven-planted joys, of stingless sweet, Aye springing up beneath our feet. O Solitude! whose secret charms I know-- Retreats that I have loved--when shall I go To taste, far from a world of din and noise, Your shades so fresh, where silence has a voice? When shall their soothing gloom my refuge be? When shall the sacred Nine, from courts afar, And cities with all solitude at war, Engross entire, and teach their votary The stealthy movements of the spangled nights, The names and virtues of those errant lights Which rule o'er human character and fate?