old Homer's song
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So highly honoured: kind, sagacious brute!
Not even Minerva's wisdom could conceal
Thy much-loved master from thy nicer sense.
Dying, his lord he owned, viewed him all o'er
With eager eyes, then closed those eyes, well pleased.
Of lesser ills the Muse declines to sing,
Nor stoops so low; of these each groom can tell
The proper remedy. But oh! what care!
What prudence can prevent madness, the worst
Of maladies? Terrific pest! that blasts
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The huntsman's hopes, and desolation spreads
Through all the unpeopled kennel unrestrained.
More fatal than the envenomed viper's bite;
Or that Apulian[10] spider's poisonous sting,
Healed by the pleasing antidote of sounds.
When Sirius reigns, and the sun's parching beams
Bake the dry gaping surface, visit thou
Each even and morn, with quick observant eye,
Thy panting pack. If in dark sullen mood,
The gloating hound refuse his wonted meal,
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Retiring to some close, obscure retreat,
Gloomy, disconsolate: with speed remove
The poor infectious wretch, and in strong chains
Bind him suspected. Thus that dire disease
Which art can't cure, wise caution may prevent.
But this neglected, soon expect a change,
A dismal change, confusion, frenzy, death.
Or in some dark recess the senseless brute
Sits sadly pining: deep melancholy,
And black despair, upon his clouded brow
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Hang lowering; from his half-opening jaws
The clammy venom, and infectious froth,
Distilling fall; and from his lungs inflamed,
Malignant vapours taint the ambient air,
Breathing perdition: his dim eyes are glazed,
He droops his pensive head, his trembling limbs
No more support his weight; abject he lies,
Dumb, spiritless, benumbed; till death at last
Gracious attends, and kindly brings relief.
Or if outrageous grown, behold alas!
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A yet more dreadful scene; his glaring eye
Redden with fury, like some angry boar
Churning he foams; and on his back erect
His pointed bristles rise; his tail incurved
He drops, and with harsh broken bowlings rends
The poison-tainted air, with rough hoarse voice
Incessant bays; and snuff's the infectious breeze;
This way and that he stares aghast, and starts
At his own shade; jealous, as if he deemed
The world his foes. If haply toward the stream
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He cast his roving eye, cold horror chills
His soul; averse he flies, trembling,