Classic Poem

The Genoese had crossed the seas,
And, with a mighty host,
Besieged a stately city,
Upon the Moorish coast.
What time they lay at leaguer there,
A strange event befell,
Whereof in this fair book of mine,
I deem it good to tell,

It was at holy Easter —
An hour before the day: —
The Christian host, with watches set,
In heavy slumber lay,
When, pouring from the city's ports,
The Paynim army came,
Led by the Moslem Afringor,
A prince of valiant fame.

With night, and cloud, their march to shroud,
And stealthy as the sea
When as its waters seek the shore,
And gird it silently,
The enemies of God drew on
To smite our slumbering host —
Drew on unwitnessed by the watch
Asleep at every post.

But for a holy miracle,
In mercy deigned to us,
The Cross had sunk that night before
The Crescent orgillous.
But as the Paynim host drew on,
A train of damsels bright,
Led by a lady fair of brow,
Stood clearly in their sight.

And in her right hand, by a leash
Of twisted silk and gold,
A milk-white dog, of mighty thews,
The lady bright did hold.
Brave sentinel! with bay, and yell,
The beast alarum made,
Until the Christian host were roused
And gallantly arrayed.

The Christian knights see with amaze
The lady and her train,
As visible as if by day,
Before them on the plain:
And cross their brows in holy awe,
As steadily they go
To do the lady's battle
Against the Paynim foe.

The Moors, aghast, in terror passed
To win back to their town;
But glaive and spear assailed their rear,
And bore their strongest down.
And, it is said, the milk-white hound
Was foremost in the fight,
And with his bristling jaws slew more
Than any armed knight.

With rise of sun, and battle done,
No man saw longer there
The lady of the shining brow,
Or train of damsels fair.
But the white hound, without a wound,
Snuffing the slaughter strode,
And came back to the Christian tents,
And with the host abode.

And then the men-at-arms who saw
The wonders of that night,
Called the brave beast Our L ADY'S D OG : —
For sure, the lady bright,
All said, was Mary Mother,
Who bare the blessed Lord,
And hates the race of Mahoun,
And loves the Holy Word.

And thenceforth did our Lady's dog
Keep constant watch and good,
And gentle nurture had he,
And sweet and dainty food;
Our Christians saw, with pious awe,
The white crest of the hound,
As nightly, in his watchfulness,
He went upon his round.