Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/92

Rh Then sudden springing forth with flaming jaws, He pounced upon the palpitating throat Of the bold dog that rashly had drawn near; Nor did he loose his terrible iron grip, Though rapid shots traversed his heaving flanks, And sharp knives in his monstrous entrails plunged Like lightnings crossed, and with each other clashed, Until faint, gasping—dead, the strangled hound Rolled at his feet. He left his vanquished foe And gazed at us. The knives still in his sides Rested, both buried to their very hilts. He had been well nigh pinned unto the turf Which his blood deluged. Still, around our guns Menaced him, levelled ominously close, A sinister crescent, but he heeded not. He looked at us again, and then lay down, Licking the blood bespattered round his mouth, And deigning not to know whence death had come, Shut his large eyes, and died without a cry.

I leaned my forehead on my empty gun And fell into a train of random thought, Unwilling, it may be, or unresolved The she-wolf and her cubs to sacrifice. These three had waited for the wolf, now dead; But for her cubs, I verily believe, The fair and sombre female had done more; She never would have let him die alone. But to her heart her duty now was plain: Her mother's instinct told her she must save