But why dost thou compare thee to a dog
In that for which all men despise a dog?
I will compare thee better to a dog;
Thou art as fair and comely as a dog,
Thou art as true and honest as a dog,
Thou art as kind and liberal as a dog,
Thou art as wise and valiant as a dog,
But, Cineas, I have often heard thee tell
Thou art as like thy father as may be:
'Tis like enough; and, faith, I like it well;
But I am glad thou art not like to me.
SIR JOHN DAVIES.
OLD MATTHEW'S DOG
I am only a dog, and I've had my day;
So, idle and dreaming, stretched out I lay
In the welcome warmth of the summer sun,
A poor old hunter whose work is done.
Dream? Yes, indeed; though I am but a dog.
Don't I dream of the partridge I sprung by the log?
Of the quivering hare and her desperate flight,
Of the nimble gray squirrel secure in his height,
Far away in the top of the hickory tree,
Looking down safe and saucy at Matthew and me,
Till the hand, true and steady, a messenger shot,
And the creature upbounded, and fell, and was not?
Old Matthew was king of the wood-rangers then;
And the quails in the stubble, the ducks in the fen,
The hare on the common, the birds on the bough,
Were afraid.
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