146 
On the fourth morn this faithful friend, 
As usual whined for meat ; 
They mark the way his footsteps tend, 
And follow his retreat. 
_ They watch him to a cave beside 
The Grampian’s craggy base ; 
Behold! the shepherd’s wandering child 
Within the Dog’s embrace ! 
He springs—he weeps away his cares, 
He cries aloud with joy ; 
He kneels, he sobs to Heaven his prayers, 
For his redeemed boy. 
Then, turning, hugs his favourite hound, 
The trusty, true, and bold, 
By whom was saved, through whom was found 
The Firstling of his fold! 
