The dog lifted muzzle, and sniffed; He quitted his couch on the rug, Nose to floor, nose aloft; whined, barked; And, finding the signals unmarked, Caught a hand in a death-grapple tug. VIII He pulled till his master jumped For fury of wrath, and laid on With the length of a tough knotted staff, Fit to drive the life flying like chaff, And leave a sheer carcase anon. IX That done, he sat, panted, and cursed The vile cross of this brute: nevermore Would he house it to rear such a cur! The dog dragged his legs, pained to stir, Eyed his master, dropped, barked at the door. X Then his master raised head too, and sniffed: It struck him the dog had a sense That honoured both dam and sire. You have guessed how the tower was afire. The Shannon retriever dates thence. XI I mused: saw the pup ease his heart Of his instinct for chasing, and sink Overwrought by excitement so new: A scene that for Koby to view Was the seizure of nerves in a link. XII And part sympathetic, and part Imitatively, raged my poor brute; And I, not thinking of ill, Doing eviller: nerves are still Our savage too quick at the root. XIII They spring us: I proved it, albeit I played executioner then For discipline, justice, the like. Yon stick I had handy to strike Should have warned of the tyrant in men. XIV You read in your History books, How the Prince in his youth had a mind For governing gently his land. Ah, the use of that weapon at hand, When the temper is other than kind! XV At home all was well; Koby’s ribs Not so sore as my thoughts: if, beguiled, He forgives me, his criminal air Throws a shade of Llewellyn’s despair For the hound slain for saving his child. POEMS AND LYRICS OF THE JOY OF EARTH THE WOODS OF WESTERMAIN I ENTER these enchanted woods, You who dare. Nothing harms beneath the leaves More than waves a swimmer cleaves. Toss your heart up with the lark, Foot at peace with mouse and worm, Fair you fare. Only at a dread of dark Quaver, and they quit their form: Thousand eyeballs under hoods Have you by the hair. Enter these enchanted woods, You who dare. II Here the snake across your path Stretches in his golden bath: Mossy-footed squirrels leap Soft as winnowing plumes of Sleep: Yaffles on a chuckle skim Low to laugh from branches dim: Up the pine, where sits the star, Rattles deep the moth-winged jar. Each has business of his own; But should you distrust a tone, Then beware. Shudder all the haunted roods, All the eyeballs under hoods Shroud you in their glare. Enter these enchanted woods, You who dare. III