Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise, Unused such looks to meet; His favorite checked his joyful guise, And crouched and licked his feet. Onward in haste Llewellyn passed, (And on went Gelert too;) And still, where'er his eyes were cast, Fresh blood-drops shocked his view.
O'erturned his infant's bed he found, The blood-stained cover rent And all around the walls and ground With recent blood besprent. He called his child--no voice replied; He searched--with terror wild; Blood! blood! he found on every side, But nowhere found the child!
"Monster, by thee my child's devoured!" The frantic father cried, And to the hilt his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side. His suppliant, as to earth he fell, No pity could impart; But still his Gelert's dying yell, Passed heavy o'er his heart.
Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Some slumberer wakened nigh: What words the parent's joy can tell To hear his infant cry! Concealed beneath a mangled heap His hurried search had missed: All glowing from his rosy sleep, His cherub boy he kissed.
Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread; But the same couch beneath Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead-- Tremendous still in death. Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain! For now the truth was clear; The gallant hound the wolf had slain To save Llewellyn's heir.
Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe-- "Best of thy kind, adieu! The frantic deed which laid thee low This heart shall ever rue." And now a gallant tomb they raise, With costly sculpture decked; And marbles, storied with his praise, Poor Gelert's bones protect.
Here never could the spearman pass, Or forester unmoved; Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass Llewellyn's sorrow proved. And here he hung his horn and spear; And oft, as evening fell, In fancy's piercing sounds would hear Poor Gelert's dying yell.
The Master came one evening to the gate Of a far city; it was growing late, And sending his disciples to buy food, He wandered forth intent on doing good, As was his wont. And in the market-place He saw a crowd, close gathered in one space, Gazing with eager eyes upon the ground. Jesus drew nearer, and thereon he found A noisome creature, a bedraggled wreck,-- A dead dog with a halter round his neck. And those who stood by mocked the object there, And one said scoffing, "It pollutes the air!" Another, jeering, asked, "How long to-night Shall such a miscreant cur offend our sight?" "Look at his torn hide," sneered a Jewish wit,-- "You could not cut even a shoe from it," And turned away. "Behold his ears that bleed," A fourth chimed in; "an unclean wretch indeed!" "He hath been hanged for thieving," they all cried, And spurned the loathsome beast from side to side. Then Jesus, standing by them in the street, Looked on the poor spent creature at his feet, And, bending o'er him, spake unto the men, "_Pearls are not whiter than his teeth._" And then The people at each other gazed, asking, "Who is this stranger pitying the vile thing?" Then one exclaimed, with awe-abated breath, "This surely is the Man of Nazareth; This must be Jesus, for none else but he Something to praise in a dead dog could see!" And, being ashamed, each scoffer bowed his head, And from the sight of Jesus turned and fled.