Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories Part 50

Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise; Unused such looks to meet, His fav'rite checked his joyful guise, And crouched, and licked his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn pa.s.sed (And on went Gelert too), And still, where'er his eyes were cast, Fresh blood gouts shocked his view!

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 his child!

"h.e.l.l-hound! 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 raised, With costly sculpture decked; And marbles storied with his praise Poor Gelert's bones protect.

Here never could the spearmen 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.

WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER

THE s...o...b..RD'S SONG

The ground was all covered with snow one day, And two little sisters were busy at play, When a s...o...b..rd was sitting close by on a tree, And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee, Chick-a-de-dee, chick-a-de-dee, And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee.

He had not been singing that tune very long, Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song: "Oh, sister, look out of the window," said she; "Here's a dear little bird singing chick-a-de-dee.

Chick-a-de-dee, etc.

"Oh, mother, do get him some stockings and shoes, And a nice little frock, and a hat if he choose; I wish he'd come into the parlor and see How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-dee."

Chick-a-de-dee, etc.

"There is one, my dear child, though I cannot tell who, Has clothed me already, and warm enough too.

Good morning! Oh, who are so happy as we?"

And away he went singing his chick-a-de-dee.

Chick-a-de-dee, etc.

FRANCIS C. WOODWORTH

FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT

Is there for honest poverty Wha hangs his head, and a' that?

The coward slave, we pa.s.s him by; We dare be poor for a' that.

For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp,-- The man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that?

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,-- A man's a man for a' that.

For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that-- Though hundreds wors.h.i.+p at his word, He's but a coof for a' that; For a' that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that; The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that; But an honest man's aboon his might,-- Guid faith, he maunna fa' that!

For a' that, and a' that; Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,-- As come it will for a' that,-- That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that.

For a' that, and a' that, It's coming yet, for a' that,-- When man to man, the warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that!

ROBERT BURNS

FABLES

FABLES FROM aeSOP

THE GOOSE THAT LAID GOLDEN EGGS