She hath crost, and without heed

All are following at full speed,

When, lo! the ice, so thinly spread,

Breaks and the greyhound, DART, is overhead!

Better fate have PRINCE and SWALLOW

See them cleaving to the sport!

MUSIC has no heart to follow,

Little MUSIC, she stops short.
She hath neither wish nor heart,
Hers is now another part:

A loving creature she, and brave!

And fondly strives her struggling friend to save.1

From the brink her paws she stretches,

Very hands as you would say!

And afflicting moans she fetches,
As he breaks the ice away.

For herself she hath no fears,

Him alone she sees and hears,

Makes efforts with complainings; nor gives o'er
Until her fellow sinks to re-appear no more.2

This, with the following poem, was placed amongst those of "Sentiment and Reflection."-ED.

[Was written at the same time, 1805. The Dog Music died, aged and blind, by falling into a draw-well at Gallow Hill, to the great grief of the family of the Hutchinsons, who, as has been before mentioned, had removed to that place from Sockburn.]

And doth her best her struggling Friend to save.

1807.

Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o'er
Until her fellow sunk, and reappeared no more.

1807.

LIE here, without a record of thy worth,
Beneath a covering of the common earth! 2
It is not from unwillingness to praise,

Or want of love, that here no Stone we raise;
More thou deserv'st; but this man gives to man,
Brother to brother, this is all we can.

Yet they to whom thy virtues made thee dear
Shall find thee through all changes of the year:
This Oak points out thy grave; the silent tree
Will gladly stand a monument of thee.

We grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; 3 And willingly have laid thee here at last :

For thou hadst lived till every thing that cheers

In thee had yielded to the weight of years;
Extreme old age had wasted thee away,
And left thee but a glimmering of the day;
Thy ears were deaf, and feeble were thy knees,—
I saw thee stagger in the summer breeze,
Too weak to stand against its sportive breath,
And ready for the gentlest stroke of death.

It came, and we were glad; yet tears were shed;
Both man and woman wept when thou wert dead;
Not only for a thousand thoughts that were,

Old household thoughts, in which thou hadst thy share;
But for some precious boons vouchsafed to thee,
Found scarcely anywhere in like degree!

1 In edd. 1807 to 1820 the following lines began this poem,

I prayed for thee, and that thy end were past;

1807.

I grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; 1820.

For love, that comes wherever life and sense
Are given by God, in thee was most intense;1
A chain of heart, a feeling of the mind,
A tender sympathy, which did thee bind
Not only to us Men, but to thy Kind:
Yea, for thy fellow-brutes in thee we saw
A soul of love,2 love's intellectual law :-
Hence, if we wept, it was not done in shame;
Our tears from passion and from reason came,
And, therefore, shalt thou be an honoured name.

SWEET Flower! belike one day to have

A place upon thy Poet's grave,

I welcome thee once more :

But He, who was on land, at sea,
My Brother, too, in loving thee,
Although he loved more silently,
Sleeps by his native shore.

Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day
When to that ship he bent his way,
To govern and to guide:

His wish was gained: a little time

Would bring him back in manhood's prime
And free for life, these hills to climb;
With all his wants supplied.

1836.

And full of hope day followed day
While that stout Ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight;

The May had then made all things green;
And, floating there, in pomp serene,

That Ship was goodly to be seen,
His pride and his delight!

Yet then, when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought:
In more than happy mood

To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers!

He then would steal at leisure hours,

And loved you glittering in your bowers,
A starry multitude.

But hark the word!—the ship is gone ;

Returns from her long course :-—anon
Sets sail-in season due,

1

Once more on English earth they stand:
But, when a third time from the land

They parted, sorrow was at hand

For Him and for his crew.

Ill-fated Vessel!-ghastly shock!

-At length delivered from the rock,

The deep she hath regained;

And through the stormy night they steer;
Labouring for life, in hope and fear,

To reach a safer shore-how near,2
Yet not to be attained!

Silence!" the brave Commander cried;
To that calm word a shriek replied,
It was the last death-shriek.

-A few (my soul oft sees that sight)
Survive upon the tall mast's height;1
But one dear remnant of the night—
For Him in vain I seek.

Six weeks beneath the moving sea
He lay in slumber quietly;
Unforced by wind or wave

To quit the Ship for which he died,
(All claims of duty satisfied ;)

And there they found him at her side;
And bore him to the grave.

Vain service! yet not vainly done

For this, if other end were none,

That He, who had been cast
Upon a way of life unmeet

For such a gentle Soul and sweet,

Should find an undisturbed retreat
Near what he loved, at last-

That neighbourhood of grove and field
To Him a resting-place should yield,

A meek man and a brave!

The birds shall sing and ocean make

A mournful murmur for his sake;

And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake
Upon his senseless grave.*

-A few appear by morning light,

Preserved upon the tall mast's height:

Oft in my soul I see that sight

1815.

See, in Poems on the naming of Places, the one beginning "When, to the Attractions of the Busy World."—1827.