Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/196

A few hours longer on the open mead.
If you should like to see it wake and stir,
My dog shall show his work and character.'
This said, he rose and cried, 'Hola! Bonhomme!
We must to work: no dog in Christendom
Better deserves the name. Now, jump up! Stand!'
A whistle followed, like a last command.
Swift as an arrow from the bent bow darts,
Ran Bonhomme to the grove's most shadowed parts,
Where the cows slumbered with their colours blent
And glossy skins, packed close as in a tent.
Some time elapsed without the slightest sound,
Or slightest movement in the leaf-hid ground.
Anon, commenced the tinkling of the bells,
And lo! a red flank or a white head swells,
Then one by one they step forth on the plain,
Sleek, grand, enormous, glad to snuff again
The pure air, and enjoy the setting sun.
When all were out, his task allotted done,
The dog came breathless from the shaded nook
With open mouth, and tail that lightly shook,
To ask approval from his master's look.
Then was it, that the young and happy child
Who walked with us, an angel undefiled,
Drew from her basket's depth a bit of bread,
And in compassion bold, and blushing red,
Gave it the dog. He darted at the boon,
Thankful to seize it. Suddenly and soon
Arose the signal whistle once again;
And at that sovereign order, on the plain
The faithful servant flew, nor looked behind,
The tempting object willingly resigned.
No hesitation was there—no delay,
Eager he ran, impatient to obey.