growl and bark;
While boys in fear stop short their song,
And sneak in startled speed along;
And beggar, creeping like a snail,
To make his hungry hopes prevail
O'er the warm heart of charity,
Leaves his lame halt and hastens by.

JOHN CLARE.

A TALE OF THE REIGN
OF TERROR

'Twas in a neighboring land what time
The Reign of Terror triumphed there,
And every horrid shape of crime
Stalked out from murder's bloody lair.

'Twas in those dreadful times there dwelt
In Lyons, the defiled with blood,
A loyal family that felt
The earliest fury of the flood.

Wife, children, friends, it swept away
From wretched Valrive, one by one,
Himself severely doomed to stay
Till everything he loved was gone.

A man proscribed, whom not to shun
Was danger, almost fate, to brave,
So all forsook him, all save one--
One faithful, humble, powerless slave.

His dog, old Nina. She had been,
When they were boys, his children's mate,
His gallant Claude, his mild Eugene,
Both gone before him to their fate.

They spurned her off--but evermore,
Surmounting e'en her timid nature,
Love brought her to the prison door,
And there she crouched, fond, faithful creature!

Watching so long, so piteously,
That e'en the jailor--man of guilt,
Of rugged heart--was moved to cry,
"Poor wretch, there enter if thou wilt."

And who than Nina more content
When she had gained that dreary cell
Where lay in helpless dreariment
The master loved so long and well?

And when into his arms she leapt
In her old fond, familiar way,
And close into his bosom crept,
And licked his face--a feeble ray

Of something--not yet comfort--stole
Upon his heart's stern misery,
And his lips moved, "Poor loving fool!
Then all have not abandoned me."

The hour by grudging kindness spared
Expired too soon--the friends must part--
And Nina from the prison gazed,
With lingering pace and heavy heart.

Shelter, and rest, and food she found
With one who, for the master's sake,
Though grim suspicion stalked around,
Dared his old servant home to take.

Beneath that friendly roof, each night
She stayed, but still returning day--
Ay, the first beam of dawning light
Beheld her on her anxious way.

Towards the prison, there to await
The hour when through that dismal door
The ke