"It seems a shame," the Walrus said, "To play them such a trick, After we've brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick!" The Carpenter said nothing but "The butter's spread too thick!" [Illustration: I DEEPLY SYMPATHIZE] "I weep for you," the Walrus said: "I deeply sympathize." With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket-handkerchief Before his streaming eyes. "Oh, Oysters," said the Carpenter, "You've had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?" But answer came there none-- And this was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one. BETH GELERT By WILLIAM E. SPENCER The spearmen heard the bugle sound, And cheerily smiled the morn; And many a brach, and many a hound, Obeyed Llewelyn's horn. And still he blew a louder blast, And gave a lustier cheer, "Come, Gelert, come, wert never last Llewelyn's horn to hear. "O, where does faithful Gelert roam, The flower of all his race; So true, so brave,--a lamb at home, A lion in the chase?" In sooth, he was a peerless hound, The gift of royal John; But now no Gelert could be found And all the chase rode on. That day Llewelyn little loved The chase of hart and hare; And scant and small the booty proved, For Gelert was not there. Unpleased, Llewelyn homeward hied, When, near the portal seat, His truant Gelert he espied, Bounding his lord to greet. But when he gained his castle door, Aghast the chieftain stood; The hound all o'er was smeared with gore; His lips, his fangs, ran blood. Llewelyn gazed with fierce surprise; Unused such looks to meet, His favorite checked his joyful guise, And crouched, and licked his feet. [Illustration: THE DEATH OF GELERT] Onward, in haste, Llewelyn passed, And on went Gelert, too; And still, where'er his eyes he cast, Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view. O'erturned his infant's bed he found, With blood-stained covert rent; And all around the walls and ground With recent blood besprent. He called his child,--no voice replied,-- He searched with terror wild; Blood, blood he found on every side, But nowhere found his child. "Hell-hound! my child's by thee devoured," The frantic father cried; And to the hilt his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side. Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Some slumberer wakened nigh; What words the parent's joy could tell To hear his infant's cry! Concealed beneath a tumbled heap His hurried search had missed, All glowing from his rosy sleep, The cherub boy he kissed. Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread, But, the same couch beneath, Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead, Tremendous still in death. Ah, what was then Llewelyn's pain! For now the truth was clear; His gallant hound the wolf had slain To save Llewelyn's heir. ROBINSON CRUSOE INTRODUCTORY NOTE