My life had stood a loaded gun
In corners, till a day
The owner passed—identified,
And carried me away.
And now we roam the sov’reign woods,
And now we hunt the doe—
And every time I speak for him
The mountains straight reply.
And do I smile, such cordial light
Upon the valley glow—
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let its pleasure through.
And when at night, our good day done,
I guard my master’s head,
‘Tis better than the eider duck’s
Deep pillow to have shared.
To foe of his I’m deadly foe,
None stir the second time
On whom I lay a yellow eye
Or an emphatic thumb.
Though I than he may longer live,
He longer must than I,
For I have but the art to kill—
Without the power to die.
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