The eye, whose recognition he was wont 

 To watch and welcome with exultant tongue. 



Robert Southey. 



An Epitaph "v> ^> <^y *o 



{Translated from the Latin of Vincent Bourne) 



"DOOR Irus' faithful wolf-dog here I lie, 



•*• That wont to tend my old blind master's 



steps, 

 His guide and guard ; nor, while my service lasted, 

 Had he occasion for that staff, with which 

 He now goes picking out his path in fear 

 Over the highways and crossings ; but would plant, 

 Safe in the conduct of my friendly string, 

 A firm foot forward still, till he had reach'd 

 His poor seat on some stone, nigh where the tide 

 Of passers-by in thickest confluence flow'd : 

 To whom with loud and passionate laments 

 From morn to eve his dark estate he wail'd. 

 Nor wail'd to all in vain : some here and there, 

 The well-disposed and good, their pennies gave. 

 I meantime at his feet obsequious slept ; 



all-asleep in sleep, but heart and ear 

 I'ri'k'il up at his least motion, to receive 

 At his kind hand my customary crumbs, 

 And common portion in his feast of scraps ; 



141 



