His form was shaggy clothed; yet he Was of a bold and faithful breed; And kept his master company In smiling days, and days of need; When the long Ev’ning slowly clos’d, When ev’ry living thing repos’d, When e’en the breeze slept on the woodlands round, The Shepherd’s watchful Dog, was ever waking found. III. All night, upon the cold turf he Contented lay, with list’ning care; And though no stranger company, Or lonely traveller rested there; Old Trim was pleas’d to guard it still, For ’twas his aged master’s will;— And so pass’d on the chearful night and day, ’Till the poor Shepherd’s Dog, was very old, and grey. IV. Among the villagers was he Belov’d by all the young and old, For he was chearful company, When the north-wind blew keen and cold; And when the cottage scarce was warm, While round it flew, the midnight storm, When loudly, fiercely roll’d the swelling tide— The Shepherd’s faithful Dog, crept closely by his side. V. When Spring in gaudy dress would be, Sporting across the meadows green, He kept his master company, And all amid the flow’rs was seen; Now barking loud, now pacing fast, Now, backward he a look would cast, And now, subdu’d and weak, with wanton play, Amid the waving grass, the Shepherd’s Dog would stay. VI. Now, up the rugged path would he The steep hill’s summit slowly gain, And still be chearful company, Though shiv’ring in the pelting rain; And when the brook was frozen o’er, Or the deep snow conceal’d the moor, When the pale moon-beams scarcely shed a ray, The Shepherd’s faithful Dog, would mark the dang’rous way. VII. On Sunday, at the old Yew Tree, Which canopies the church-yard stile, Forc’d from his master’s company, The faithful TRIM would mope awhile; For then his master’s only care Was the loud Psalm, or fervent Pray’r, And, ’till the throng the church-yard path retrod, The Shepherd’s patient guard, lay silent on the sod. VIII. Near their small hovel stood a tree, Where TRIM was ev’ry morning found— Waiting his master’s company, And looking wistfully around; And if, along the upland mead, He heard him tune the merry reed, O, then! o’er hedge and ditch, thro’ brake and briar, The Shepherd’s dog would haste, with eyes that seem’d on fire. IX.