202 
VERTEBRATA. 
beautiful engraving, in allusion to the ancient reputation of the greyhound, pictures one of these 
creatures Avatching at night by the grave of his friend. Probably this was a different variety 
from the modern one. A touching memorial of one of the ancient breed exists in the well- 
known ballad of Gelert, from which we give an extract : 
THK GREYHOUND. 
" 'Twas only at Llewellyn's board 
The faithful Gelert fed, 
He watch'd, he served, he cheer'd his lord. 
And sentinel'd his bed. 
In sooth he was a peerless hound, 
The gift of royal John ; 
But now no Gelert could be found, 
And all the chase rode on. 
And now as over rocks and dells 
The gallant chidings rise, 
All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells 
With many mingled cries. 
That day Llewellyn little loved 
The chase of hart or hare ; 
And scant and small the booty proved, 
For Gelert Avas not there. 
Unpleased Llewellyn homeward hied ; 
When near the portal seat 
His truant Gelert he espied, 
Bounding his lord to greet. 
But when he gain'd the castle-door, 
Aghast the chieftain stood ; 
The hound was smear' d with gouts of gore — 
His lips and fangs ran blood. 
Llewdlyn gazed with wild surprise : 
Unused such looks to meet, 
His favorite check'd his joyful guise, 
And crouch'd and lick'd his feet. 
Onward in haste Llewellyn pass'd. 
And on went Gelert too ; 
And still where'er his eyes he cast, 
Fresh blood-gouts shock'd his view. 
O'erturn'd his infant's bed he found, 
The blood-stain'd covert rent ; 
And all around the walls and ground, 
With recent blood besprent. 
He call'd his child — no voice replied — 
He search' d with terror wild : 
Blood ! blood ! he found on every side, 
But nowhere found the child. 
'Hellhound ! by thee my child's devour'd!' 
The frantic father cried ; 
And to the hilt his vengeful sword 
He plunged in Gelert' s side. 
His suppliant, as to earth he fell, 
No pity could impart ; 
But still his Gelert's dying yell 
Pass'd heavy o'er his heart. 
Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, 
Some slumberer waken' d nigh : 
What words the parent's joy can tell 
hear his infant cry ! 
Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap 
His hurried search had miss'd, 
All glowing from his rosy sleep, 
His cherub boy he kiss'd. 
Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread, 
But the same couch beneath 
Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead, 
Tremendous still in death. 
Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain ! ♦ 
For iiow the truth was clear : 
The gallant hound the wolf had slain, 
To save Llewellyn's heir." 
