The New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

The HERMIT and his DOG.

In life's fair morn, I knew an aged seer,
Who had lonely pass'd his joyless year;
Betray'd, heart-broken from the world he ran
And shunn'd, oh dire extreme, the face of man;
Humbly he rear'd his hut within the wood,
Hermit his vest, a hermit's was his food,
Pitch'd in some corner of the gelid cave
Where chilling drops the rugged rockstone lave;
Hour after hour, the melancholy sage
Drop after drop to reckon, would engage
The ling'ring day, as trickling as they fell,
A tear went with them to the narrow well;
Then thus he moraliz'd as slow it pass'd,
"This brings me nearer Lucia than the last;
And this, nor streaming from the eye (said he)
Oh, my lov'd child, will bring me nearer thee"
When first he roam'd, his dog, with anxious care,
His wand'rings watch'd, as emulous to share;
In vain the faithful brute was bid to go,
In vain the sorrover sought a lonely woe.
The hermit paus'd, the attendant dog was near,
Slept at his feet, & caught the falling tear;
Up rose the hermit, up the dog would rise,
And every way to win a master tries.
Then be it so. Come faithful fool, he said;
One pat encourag'd & they sought the shade;
An unfrequented thicket soon they found,
And both repos'd upon the leafy ground;
Mellifluous murm'rings told the fountains nigh,
Fountains which well a pilgrim's drink supply;
And thence, by many a labyrinth is led,
Where ev'ry tree bestow'd an ev'ning bed.
Skill'd in the chace, the faithful creature brought
Whate'er at morn or moonlight course be caught;
But the sage lent his sympathy to all,
Nor saw unwept his dumb associates fall.
He was, in sooth, the gentlest of his kind,
And tho' a hermit had a social mind:
"And why, said he, must man subsist by prey,
Why top yon melting music on the spray?
Why, when assail'd by hounds and hunter's cry,
Must halt the harmless race in terrors die?
Why must we work of innocence the woe?
Still shall this breast throb, these eyes o'erflow;
A heart too tender here, from man, retires,
A heart that aches if but a wren expires."
Thus liv'd the master good, the servant true,
Till to his God the master's spirit flew;
Beside a fount which daily water gave,
Stooping to drink, the Hermit found a grave;
All in the running stream his garments spread
And dark, damp verdure ill conceal'd his head;
The faithful servant from that fatal day
Haunt'd the lov'd corpse, and hourly pin'd away:
His head upon his master's cheek was found,
While the obstructed water mourn'd around.