His story you shall hear,
And all that makes my sable guest,
Most singularly dear."

"Here it has been my chosen lot,
Some awful years to spend!
Few months have pass'd, since near this spot
I gain'd this signal friend."

"This friend, with whom to live and die,
Is now my dearest aim;
He likes the world no more than I,
And Hero is his name."

"Some two miles off, as near a wood,
Of deepest gloom I stray'd;
Struck by strange sounds, I wond'ring stood,
They echoed from the shade."

"First like a noise in troubled dreams,
But soon distinct I heard,
A dog's triumphant bark, and screams,
That spoke a dying bird."

"A bird of loud portentous note,
One of the vulture race,
Which shepherds will to death devote,
In sanguinary chace."

"I thought some shepherd's joy to share,