09.08.2014, 14:20
THE RHEBOK
ON the cool mountain side, whose scattered stones
Are coloured like himself, he guards his ewes
With vigilant care, and when the quivering dews
Take the first light, and rosy curtained thrones
Tower in the east above the barren cones,
That far beneath him flaunt their fiery hues,
He rises, and hi soft persuasive tones
Wakes his small charge, or in the air pursues
With anxious gaze the eagle sweeping round,
Or gets a glut of tainted wind, and blows
His thin, clear whistle on a piercing note
To warn the herd, that with a sudden bound
Leaps to the call, and like a whirlwind goes
Over the ridge above the Shepherd's cote.
ON the cool mountain side, whose scattered stones
Are coloured like himself, he guards his ewes
With vigilant care, and when the quivering dews
Take the first light, and rosy curtained thrones
Tower in the east above the barren cones,
That far beneath him flaunt their fiery hues,
He rises, and hi soft persuasive tones
Wakes his small charge, or in the air pursues
With anxious gaze the eagle sweeping round,
Or gets a glut of tainted wind, and blows
His thin, clear whistle on a piercing note
To warn the herd, that with a sudden bound
Leaps to the call, and like a whirlwind goes
Over the ridge above the Shepherd's cote.