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And if it be too much to say
That pity gave him speed, 'Tis sure he not unwillingly
Perform’d the generous deed.
For now he listens--and anon
He scents the distant breeze, And casts a keen and anxious look
On every speck he sees.
And now deceiv'd, he darts along,
As if he trod the air,
With more than human care.
He never loiters by the way,
Nor lays him down to rest,
That pelts his generous breast.
And surely 'tis not less than joy
That makes it throb so fast,
The wanderer found at last.
And at the joyful sight
His fierce eye grew more bright;
To tell his generous talem And he raised his voice to its loudest tone To bid the wanderer hail.
The pilgrim heard-he rais'd his head,
And beheld the shaggy formWith sudden fear, he seiz'd the gun
That rested. on his arm ; “ Ha! art thou come to rend alive
What dead thou might'st devour?
My one remaining hour ?"
He took his aim too well-
The injured mastiff fell.
And he toss'd his head no more .
Was generous as before!
A store of needful food ; 
On the yet remaining road.
His errand to fulfil-
Might save the murderer still.
But crawl'd to the traveller's side,
Then shudder'd, groan'd, and died ! (2] .  A bottle of wine and a loaf are tied round the necks of these dogs when they are sent forth.
 It is said, that the traveller, tracing the dog's footsteps in the snow, reached the convent in safety.
Said Anna to Jane, as they loiter'd one day,
side, “ Those bright, clustering flowers on yonder tall
tree Are the fairest and sweetest I ever espied. “ But I know that to-night, ere the sun shall have
set, Their form will be changed, and their colours
will fly; I almost could weep that such beauty should pass
'Tis surely a pity that blossoms must die. “ But at least I'll enjoy them as long as I can, For go when they will I shall leave them with
sorrow; They shall bloom on my bosom at least for to-day, Since, whether or no, I must lose them to
morrow." The blossom was gather'd, and smil'd in her
breast, For many an hour, full sweetly, no doubt It died, as it would were it left in the tree
But she who had gather'd it had not the fruit. And 'tis so that we sigh o'er our life's fleeting joys, Forgetting the purpose for which they were
given; Forgetting, though sweet be the blossoms on earth, The fruit they should bear us is gathered in heaven,
179.—THE FORCE OF INSTINCT.
FOUNDED ON FACTS.
While music filled the air,
Built by a faithful pair
Two fonder birds unite!
Appeared like coral bright.
What words can paint their care ?
Took aim and shot the pair. To me he brought the cradling nest; I warmed the orphans in my breast, . And searched the grove for food; Alas ! each dainty lured in vain, Nor worms, nor seeds, nor moisten'd grain
Could tempt the pining brood. Brought from Canaria's isles, encaged, Long had a bird my love engaged,
And charm'd my lonely hours;
Though doomed no social joys to share,
· She fluttered 'mid my flowers.
Soon as the solitary bird
By mighty instinct led,
At once grown conscious of control,
* She answered to their cry;
And let the captive fly.
Then cowering o'er the long-chill'd nest,
Each suppliant bird to feed;