Tlie Poets Flocks. 243 



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In weak despondency they eye 



The withered sward and wintry sky. 



The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold. 



And wraps him closer from the cold ; 



His dogs no merry circles wheel. 



But, shivering, follow at his heel ; 



A cowering glance they often cast. 



As deeper moans the gathering blast" — Scott. 



And so to Winter, with "the dun-discoloured flocks, unt ended 

 spread, cropping the wholesome root" — or, as Grahame 

 more prosaically puts it, '^on the turnip-field, in portions 

 due, staked off, the bleating flock their juicy meal, nibbling 

 partake" — or it may be with the same poor woolly folk 

 piteously neglected, like Milton's "hungry sheep that look up 

 and are not fed, but, swollen with wind and the rank mist 

 they draw, rot inwardly," or, as in Thomson — 



" The bleating kind 

 Eye the bleak heavens, and next the glistening earth, 

 With looks of dumb, despair, then sad dispersed 

 Dig for the withered herb, through heaps of snow." 



Fond as poets are of their sheep, they hardly justify their 

 excessive affection for them by the character which they 

 give the " woolly people." Their habit of following their 

 leader, " whether led to the downs or from the wave-worn 

 rock reluctant hurled " (Armstrong), brings down upon their 

 heads frequent contempt Slaves are as obedient "as 

 sheep," and stupid men are "like sheep that follow." As 

 flocks they are always " silly," " the tame, implicit team " 

 (Armstrong), as individuals they are meekly feeble. Says 

 Swift— 



" Therefore the shefep, those foolish cattle. 



Not fit for courage or for battle, 



And being tolerable meat. 



They're good for nothing but to eat. '" 



"Specious and sage, the sovereign of the flock," the 



