Thrice rose the morn--the father's heart
With grief was almost dead;
But every morn the dog appeared,
And whined and begged for bread.
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?"

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 Grampians' 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!


The Engravings, which are very numerous, are exclusively on wood. A few