THE DOG AND THE WATERLILY NO FABLE [Written Aug, 1788.  Published in The Gentleman's Magazine,      Dec., 1791; then in pamphlet with On Receipt of my Mother's      Picture, 1798; afterwards in Poems, 1798.] THE noon was shady, and soft airs      Swept Ouse's silent tide, When, 'scap'd from literary cares,      I wander'd on his side. My spaniel, prettiest of his race,      And high in pedigree, (Two nymphs, adorned with ev'ry grace,      That spaniel found for me) Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds,      Now starting into sight Pursued the swallow o'er the meads      With scarce a slower flight. It was the time when Ouse display'd      His lilies newly blown; Their beauties I intent survey'd,      And one I wish'd my own. With cane extended far I sought      To steer it close to land; But still the prize, though nearly caught,      Escap'd my eager hand. Beau marked my unsuccessful pains      With fixt consid'rate face, And puzzling set his puppy brains      To comprehend the case. But with a chirrup clear and strong,      Dispersing all his dream, I thence withdrew, and follow'd long      The windings of the stream. My ramble finished, I return'd.      Beau trotting far before The floating wreath again discern'd,      And plunging left the shore. I saw him with that lily cropp'd      Impatient swim to meet My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd      The treasure at my feet. Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried,      Shall hear of this thy deed, My dog shall mortify the pride      Of man's superior breed; But, chief, myself I will enjoin,      Awake at duty's call, To show a love as prompt as thine      To Him who gives me all. 8 16 24 32 40

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