OR, THE CHILD FOUND. 
The boiling clouds come down and veil 
Valley, and wood, and plain ; 
Then fears the father’s heart assail, 
He will descend again. 
Morn melted into noon, and night 
Dark on the shepherd shone, 
Terror in vain impells his flight, 
His child !—his child is gone! 
His calls upon his darling’s name, 
His Dog in vain he calls ; 
He hears nought but the Eagles scream, 
Or roar of waterfalls. 
He rushes home—he is not there— 
With agony and woe ; 
He hunts him in the cold night air, 
O’er hill and vale below. 
Morn rose—the faithful Dog appears, 
He whines for food so mild, 
The father hied him through his tears, 
And said, “ Tray, where ’s my child? 
Thrice rose the morn—the father’s heart 
With grief was almost dead ; 
But every morn the Dog appeared, 
And whined and begged for bréad. 
Yet through the night and through the day, 
The Dog was never seen ; 
“* He is not wont to stay away, . 
Where can the Dog have been ?” 
oO 
145 
