Home › Contents › Celebrated Dog of Marathon

Celebrated Dog of Marathon

(85) Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise; Unused such looks to meet, His favorite checked his joyful guise, And crouched and licked his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn passed, And on went Gelert too; And still where'er his eyes he cast, Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view.

O'erturned his infant's bed he found, The blood-stained covert rent; And all around the walls and ground, With recent blood besprent.

He called his child-no voice replied- He searched with terror wild :

Blood! blood! he found on every side, But nowhere found the child. "Hellhound! by thee my child's devoured!"

The frantic father cried; And to the hilt his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side.

His suppliant, as to earth he fell, No pity could impart; But still his Gelert's dying yell Passed heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Some slumberer wakened nigh:

What words the parent's joy can tell To hear his infant cry!

Concealed beneath a mangled heap His hurried search had missed, All glowing from his rosy sleep, His cherub boy he kissed.

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread, But the same couch beneath Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead.

Tremendous still in death.

Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain !

For now the truth was clear:

The gallant hound the wolf had slain, To save Llewellyn's heir. steepness and narrowness. A precipice of many hundred feet is often found on one side, and perpendicular rocks on the other, while the path is glazed with frozen snow or ice. In many places the path is overhung with huge masses of frozen. snow, which occasionally loosen and fall, when the dreadful storms peculiar to these regions suddenly come on and form an insurmountable barrier, or sweep away or bury the unfortunate traveller. Should he escape these dangers, the road is now become trackless, and he wanders amid the dreary solitudes until night overtakes him; and then, when he pauses from fatigue or uncertainty with regard to the path he should pursue, his limbs are speedily benumbed. Fatal slumbers, which he cannot shake off steal upon him, and he crouches under some ledge, and sleeps to wake no more. The snow drifts on. It is almost continually falling, and he is soon concealed from all human help.

On the top of Mount St. Bernard, and near one of the most dangerous of these passes, is a convent, in which is preserved a breed of large Dogs trained to search for the benighted and frozen wanderer.

Every night, and particularly when the wind blows tempestuously, some of these Dogs are sent out. They traverse every path about the mountains, and their scent is so exquisite that they can discover the traveller, although he may lie many feet deep in the snow. Having found him, they set to work and endeavor to scrape away the snow, uttering a deep bark that reverberates from rock to rock, and tells those who are watching in the convent The Mount St. Bernard Dog, often called the Alpine Spaniel, is very celebrated. that some poor wretch is in peril. Gener- It is almost peculiar to the Alps, and to ally, a little flask of spirits is tied round the district between Switzerland and the neck of the animal, by drinking Savoy. The passes over these mountains which the benighted traveller may recruit are exceedingly dangerous from their his strength, until more effectual help