Voices for the Speechless Part 34

O'erturned his infant's bed he found, The blood-stained cover 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 the child!

"Monster, by thee my child's devoured!"

The frantic father cried, And to the hilt his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side.

His suppliant, as to earth he fell, No pity could impart; But still his Gelert's dying yell, Pa.s.sed heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Some slumberer wakened nigh: What words the parent's joy can tell To hear his infant cry!

Concealed beneath a mangled heap His hurried search had missed: All glowing from his rosy sleep, His cherub boy he kissed.

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread; But the same couch beneath Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead-- Tremendous still in death.

Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain!

For now the truth was clear; The gallant hound the wolf had slain To save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe-- "Best of thy kind, adieu!

The frantic deed which laid thee low This heart shall ever rue."

And now a gallant tomb they raise, With costly sculpture decked; And marbles, storied with his praise, Poor Gelert's bones protect.

Here never could the spearman pa.s.s, Or forester unmoved; Here oft the tear-besprinkled gra.s.s Llewellyn's sorrow proved.

And here he hung his horn and spear; And oft, as evening fell, In fancy's piercing sounds would hear Poor Gelert's dying yell.

SPENSER.

LOOKING FOR PEARLS.

AN ORIENTAL LEGEND.

The Master came one evening to the gate Of a far city; it was growing late, And sending his disciples to buy food, He wandered forth intent on doing good, As was his wont. And in the market-place He saw a crowd, close gathered in one s.p.a.ce, Gazing with eager eyes upon the ground.

Jesus drew nearer, and thereon he found A noisome creature, a bedraggled wreck,-- A dead dog with a halter round his neck.

And those who stood by mocked the object there, And one said scoffing, "It pollutes the air!"

Another, jeering, asked, "How long to-night Shall such a miscreant cur offend our sight?"

"Look at his torn hide," sneered a Jewish wit,-- "You could not cut even a shoe from it,"

And turned away. "Behold his ears that bleed,"

A fourth chimed in; "an unclean wretch indeed!"

"He hath been hanged for thieving," they all cried, And spurned the loathsome beast from side to side.

Then Jesus, standing by them in the street, Looked on the poor spent creature at his feet, And, bending o'er him, spake unto the men, "_Pearls are not whiter than his teeth._" And then The people at each other gazed, asking, "Who is this stranger pitying the vile thing?"

Then one exclaimed, with awe-abated breath, "This surely is the Man of Nazareth; This must be Jesus, for none else but he Something to praise in a dead dog could see!"

And, being ashamed, each scoffer bowed his head, And from the sight of Jesus turned and fled.

ALGER'S _Eastern Poetry_.

ROVER.

"Kind traveller, do not pa.s.s me by, And thus a poor old dog forsake; But stop a moment on your way, And hear my woe for pity's sake!

"My name is Rover; yonder house Was once my home for many a year; My master loved me; every hand Caressed young Rover, far and near.

"The children rode upon my back, And I could hear my praises sung; With joy I licked their pretty feet, As round my s.h.a.ggy sides they clung.

"I watched them while they played or slept; I gave them all I had to give: My strength was theirs from morn till night; For them I only cared to live.

"Now I am old, and blind, and lame, They've turned me out to die alone, Without a shelter for my head, Without a sc.r.a.p of bread or bone.

"This morning I can hardly crawl, While s.h.i.+vering in the snow and hail; My teeth are dropping, one by one; I scarce have strength to wag my tail.

"I'm palsied grown with mortal pains, My withered limbs are useless now; My voice is almost gone you see, And I can hardly make my bow.

"Perhaps you'll lead me to a shed Where I may find some friendly straw On which to lay my aching limbs, And rest my helpless, broken paw.

"Stranger, excuse this story long, And pardon, pray, my last appeal; You've owned a dog yourself, perhaps, And learned that dogs, like men, can feel."

Yes, poor old Rover, come with me; Food, with warm shelter, I'll supply; And Heaven forgive the cruel souls Who drove you forth to starve and die!

J. T. FIELDS.

TO MY DOG "BLANCO."

My dear dumb friend, low lying there, A willing va.s.sal at my feet, Glad partner of my home and fare, My shadow in the street.

I look into your great brown eyes, Where love and loyal homage s.h.i.+ne, And wonder where the difference lies Between your soul and mine!

For all of good that I have found Within myself or humankind, Hath royalty informed and crowned Your gentle heart and mind.

I scan the whole broad earth around For that one heart which, leal and true, Bears friends.h.i.+p without end or bound, And find the prize in you.

I trust you as I trust the stars; Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride, Nor beggary, nor dungeon-bars, Can move you from my side!

As patient under injury As any Christian saint of old, As gentle as a lamb with me, But with your brothers bold;

More playful than a frolic boy, More watchful than a sentinel, By day and night your constant joy, To guard and please me well:

I clasp your head upon my breast-- And while you whine and lick my hand-- And thus our friends.h.i.+p is confessed And thus we understand!

Ah, Blanco! did I wors.h.i.+p G.o.d As truly as you wors.h.i.+p me, Or follow where my master trod With your humility;

Did I sit fondly at His feet, As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine, And watch him with a love as sweet, My life would grow divine!

J. G. HOLLAND.

THE BEGGAR AND HIS DOG.

"Pay down three dollars for my hound!