t let me name his name, and up
You'll see him start and patter
Towards me, like a six-months' pup
In point of speed, but fatter.

He pokes his head upon my lap,
Nor heeds the whip above him;
Because he knows, the dear old chap,
His human friends all love him.

Our younger dogs cut off from hence
At sight of lash uplifted;
But Rove, with grand indifference,
Remains, and can't be shifted.

And, ah! the set upon his phiz
At meals defies expression;
For I confess that Rover is
A cadger by profession.

The lesser favourites of the place
At dinner keep their distance;
But by my chair one grizzled face
Begs on with brave persistence.

His jaws present a toothless sight,
But still my hearty hero
Can satisfy an appetite
Which brings a bone to zero.

And while Spot barks and pussy mews,
To move the cook's compassion,
He takes his after-dinner snooze
In genuine biped fashion.

In fact, in this, our ancient pet
So hits off human nature,
That I at times almost forget
He's but a dog in feature.

Between his tail and bright old eye
The swift communications
Outstrip the messages which fly
From telegraphic stations.

And, ah! that tail's rich eloquence
Conveys too clear a moral,
For men who have a grain of sense
About its drift to quarrel.

At night, his voice is only heard
When it is wanted badly;
For Rover is too cute a bird
To follow shadows madly.

The pup and Carlo in the dark
Will start at crickets chirring;
But when we hear the old dog bark
We know there's _something_ stirring.

He knows a gun, does Rover here;
And if I cock a trigger,
He makes himself from tail to ear
An admirable figure.

For, once the fowling piece is out,
And game is on the _tapis_,
The set upon my hero's snout
Would make a cockle happy.

And as for horses, why, betwixt
Our chestnut mare and Rover
The mutual friendship is as fixed
As any love of lover.

And when his master's hand resigns
The bridle for the paddle,
His dogship on the grass reclines,
And stays and minds the saddle.

Of other friends he has no lack;
Grey pussy is his crony,
And kittens mount upon his back,
As youngsters mount a pony.

They talk of man's superior sense,
And charge the few with treason
Who t