I hasten'd to the ground,
But saw surpris'd, as I drew near,
The author of the sound.

No human form, yet one I thought,
With human feelings fill'd,
And from his tongue, by nature taught,
Strange notes of sorrow thrill'd.

Unseen myself, I clearly saw
A dog that couchant moan'd;
He struck the hard earth with his paw,
Then look'd at Heaven, and groan'd!

With silent caution I drew near,
To mark this friend of man,
Expressing grief in sobs so clear,
It through my bosom ran!

The noble beast was black as jet,
And as a lion large;
He look'd as on a tombstone set,
To hold the dead in charge.

Grand was his visage, round his neck
Broad silver rings he wore;
These rings, that his dark body deck,
The cross of Malta bore.

I gaz'd, but soon my steps, tho' soft,