—­Look
  Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there.

Above all, those old blind Tobits that used to line the wall of Lincoln’s Inn Garden, before modern fastidiousness had expelled them, casting up their ruined orbs to catch a ray of pity, and (if possible) of light, with their faithful Dog Guide at their feet,—­whither are they fled? or into what corners, blind as themselves, have they been driven, out of the wholesome air and sun-warmth? immersed between four walls, in what withering poor-house do they endure the penalty of double darkness, where the chink of the dropt half-penny no more consoles their forlorn bereavement, far from the sound of the cheerful and hope-stirring tread of the passenger?  Where hang their useless staves? and who will farm their dogs?—­Have the overseers of St. L——­ caused them to be shot? or were they tied up in sacks, and dropt into the Thames, at the suggestion of B——­, the mild rector of ——?

Well fare the soul of unfastidious Vincent Bourne, most classical, and at the same time, most English, of the Latinists!—­who has treated of this human and quadrupedal alliance, this dog and man friendship, in the sweetest of his poems, the Epitaphium in Canem, or, Dog’s Epitaph.  Reader, peruse it; and say, if customary sights, which could call up such gentle poetry as this, were of a nature to do more harm or good to the moral sense of the passengers through the daily thoroughfares of a vast and busy metropolis.

  Pauperis hic Iri requiesco Lyciscus, herilis,
  Dum vixi, tutela vigil columenque senectae,
  Dux caeco fidus:  nec, me ducente, solebat,
  Praetenso hinc atque hinc baculo, per iniqua locorum
  Incertam explorare viam; sed fila secutus,
  Quae dubios regerent passus, vestigia tuta
  Fixit inoffenso gressu; gelidumque sedile
  In nudo nactus saxo, qua praetereuntium
  Unda frequens confluxit, ibi miserisque tenebras
  Lamentis, noctemque oculis ploravit obortam. 
  Ploravit nec frustra; obolum dedit alter et alter,
  Queis corda et mentem indiderat natura benignam. 
  Ad latus interea jacui sopitus herile,
  Vel mediis vigil in somnis; ad herilia jussa
  Auresque atque animum arrectus, seu frustula amice
  Porrexit sociasque dapes, seu longa diei
  Taedia perpessus, reditum sub nocte parabat.

Hi mores, haec vita fuit, dum fata sinebant,
Dum neque languebam morbis, nec inerte senecta;
Quae tandem obrepsit, veterique satellite caecum
Orbavit dominum:  prisci sed gratia facti
Ne tola intereat, longos deleta per annos,
Exiguum hunc Irus tumulum de cespite fecit,
Etsi inopis, non ingratae, munuscula dextrae;
Carmine signavitque brevi, dominumque canemque
Quod memoret, fidumque canem dominumque benignum.

* * * * *