~The Book Of Wonder Encyclopaedia~

~Poetry - William Wordsworth~

~Fidelity~

			 
                             
  			    A barking sound the shepherd hears, 
			    A cry as of a dog or fox;
			    He halts - and searches with his eyes
			    Among the scattered rocks:
			    And now at distance can discern
			    A stirring in a brake of fern;
			    And instantly a dog is seen,
			    Glancing through that covert green.

			    The dog is not of mountain breed;
			    Its motions, too, are wild and shy'
			    With something, as the shepherd thinks,
			    Unusual in its cry:
			    Nor is there anyone in sight
			    All round, in hollow or on height;
			    Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
			    What is that creature doing here?

			    It was a cove, a huge recess,
			    That keeps, till June, December's snow;
			    A lofty precipice in front,
			    A silent tarn below!
			    Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
			    Remote from public road or dwelling,
			    Pathway or cultivated land;
			    From trace of human foot or hand.

			    There sometimes doth a leaping fish
			    Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
			    The crags repeat the raven's croak,
			    In symphony austere;
			    Thither the rainbow comes - the cloud - 
			    And mists that spread the flying shroud;
			    And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
			    That, if it could, would hurry past;
			    But that enormous barrier holds it fast.
	
			    Not free from boding thoughts, a while
			    The shepherd stood; then makes his way
			    O'er rocks and stones, following the dog
			    As quickly as he may;
			    Nor far had gone before he found
			    A human skeleton on the ground;
			    The appalled discoverer with a sigh
			    Looks round to learn the history.

			    From those abrupt and perilous rocks
			    The man had fallen, that place of fear!
			    At length upon the shepherd's mind
			    It breaks, and all is clear:
			    He instantly recalled the name,
			    And who he was, and whence he came;
			    Remembered, too, the very day
			    On which the traveller passed this way.

			    But hear a wonder, for whose sake 
			    This lamentable tale I tell!
			    A lasting monument of words
			    This wonder merits well.
			    The dog, which still was hovering nigh,
			    Repeating the same timid cry,
			    This dog had been through three months' space
			    A dweller in that savage place.

			    Yes, proof was plain that, since the day
			    When this ill-fated traveller died,
			    The dog had watched about the spot,
			    Or by his masters side:
			    How nourished here through such long time
			    He knows, who gave that love sublime;
			    And gave that strength of feeling, great
			    Above all human estimate!

				
~William Wordsworth.~

~*~


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