Well, lot them rail. If, since your life began, 



Beyond the customary lot of man 



Staunchness was yours ; if of your faithful heart 



Malice and scorn could never claim a part ; 



If in your master, loving while you live, 



You own no fault or own it to forgive ; 



If, as you lay your head upon his knee, 



Your deep-drawn sighs proclaim your sympathy ; 



If faith and friendship, growing with your age, 



Speak through your eyes and all his love engage ; 



If by that master's wish your life you rule — 



If this be folly, Rufus, you're a fool. 



Old dog, content you ; Rufus, have no fear : 

 While life is yours and mine your place is here. 

 And when the day shall come, as come it must, 

 When Rufus goes to mingle with the dust 

 (If Fate ordains that you shall pass before 

 To the abhorred and sunless Stygian shore), 

 I think old Charon, punting through the dark, 

 Will hear a sudden friendly little bark ; 

 And on the shore he'll mark without a frown 

 A flap-eared doggie, bandy-legged and brown. 

 He'll take you in : since watermen are kind, 

 He'd scorn to leave my little dog behind. 

 He'll ask no obol, but instal you there 

 On Styx's further bank without a fare. 

 There shall you sniff his cargoes as they come, 

 And droop your head, and turn, and still be dumb — 



222 



