Not free from boding thoughts, a while The shepherd stood; then makes his

way

Towards the dog, o'er rocks and stones,
As quickly as he may;

Not far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground!
Th appalled discoverer, with a sigh,
Looks round to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks

The man had fallen, — that place of fear! At length, upon the shepherd's mind

It breaks, and all is clear;
He instantly recalled the name,

And who he was, and whence he came;
Remembered, too, the very day

On which the traveler passed this way.

But hear a wonder, for whose sake
This lamentable tale I tell!

A lasting monument of words

This wonder merits well.

The dog, which still was hovering nigh,

Repeating the same timid cry, –

This dog had been, through three months'

space,

A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain, that since that day,
When this ill-fated traveler died,

The dog had watched about the spot,
Or by his master's side:

How nourished here, through such long time,
He knows, who gave that love sublime;
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.