Tho' hunger press'd, untouched the boon would lie ; 

 Eyes to the blind, he notes the passing thief, 

 And guards the good Samaritan's relief; 

 A faithful steward, amidst unbounded power, 

 Patient he waits the home-returning hour ; 

 Then reconducts his master to his shed, 

 And grateful banquets on the coarsest bread. 

 And were that cheerless shed, by fortune plac'd 

 In the chill cavern, or the naked waste, 

 The sport of every storm, unroof d and bare, 

 This faithful slave would find a palace there ; 

 Would feel the labours of his love o'erpaid 

 Near to his monarch master's pillow laid ; 

 Unchang'd by change of circumstance or place : 

 O SACRED LESSON TO A PROUDER 

 RACE! 



But, reasoner, say, are these thy gifts of art, 

 Or, native graces of the canine heart ? 

 Say, does he owe this social change of state 

 To imitation of the fair and great ? 

 Copied from thee, and do his virtues rise 

 From man's example of the good and wise ? 

 If thou hast thus reclaimed from savage strife, 

 And made him thus a link of social life, 

 Ask thy own soul — that every harshness knows — 

 How oft his joys are follow'd by his woes ; 

 And if like thee, this slave could count his gains, 

 Say, would his pleasures balance to his pains ? 



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