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amorous came Poor Tray, with scratch and whine, The mistress rose, and much to blame His rudeness did incline. As gladly she the door unbarr'd, Her weary man to greet, The generous dog, with kind regard, Rush'd fondling round her feet. He moaned, he howl'd, he seized her gown, And drew her gently forth; She follow'd him across the down, For she had prov'd his worth. Beside the road the quarries lay, Capacious, dark, and deep; The steed had swerv'd one step astray, And tumbled down the steep. There lay poor Ambrose, stunn'd and pale, Unhurt, his beast stands by; And thither Tray, with frisking tail, Attracts his mistress' eye. Nor would he quit his master's side, Such sympathy he found---- He lick'd his pallid cheek, and tried To raise him from the ground. Heaven, and her friends, their aid afford To Julia's tears and vows, And soon to life and love restor'd Her much lamented spouse. On wintry nights, when beats the storm, And howling winds prevail, The children round the brick hearth warm, Repeat th' affecting tale. While Tray, outstretch'd, the fire enjoys, And rests his long white chin On their soft laps who speak his praise, And pat his downy skin. O happy dog! no faithless man, With prouder gifts endu'd, Shall ever, share with thee, or scan The joys of gratitude. * * * * * The following fragment of an elegant little ode to music will interest the reader of taste, not only on account of the sweetness of its numbers, diction, and sentiment, but also for that melancholy but sublime anticipation of an affecting truth, that he was not made for a long continuance in this world, which caused him to contemplate the future with heightened satisfaction. _By Henry Kirk White._ TO MUSIC. O give me music; for my soul doth faint. I'm sick of noise and care: and now mine ear Longs for some air of peace, some dying plaint That may the spirit from it's cell unsphere. Hark, how it falls?--And now it steals along, Like distant bells upon the lake at eve When all is still--and now it grows more strong, As when the choral train their dirges weave, Mellow and many voic'd--where every close O'er the old minister-
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