The traveller, a Roman born,
Was of a generous mind;
He never view'd distress with scorn,
To all that breath'd most kind.

And soon all selfish fear apart,
His native spirit rose,
The suffering Panther won his heart,
He only felt her woes.

"Jove help thee gracious beast," he cried,
"Some evil wounds thee sore,
And it shall be my joy and pride,
Thy sorrows to explore!"

The beast his kindness understood,
Fix'd on his robe a claw,
And gently to the neighb'ring wood,
Appear'd her friend to draw.

How little is the want of speech,
When kindness rules the heart;
Gesture will then all lessons teach,
That language can impart!

The Roman, Caelius, was his name,
By brave compassion sway'd,
Conjectur'd all the Panther's aim,
And gave her willing aid.