Statio Quinta

The shepherd calls,     How these great niountain walls     Re-echo! See his dog     Come limping from the bog!     How far he holds him     With that thin clamour! Scolds him?     Or cheers him, which?     Say both, most like. The pitch     Is steep, poor fellow!     And still that bellow;     Ya, ya!     Whoop tittivat     And Echo from her niche     Shrieks challenged. Shout,     O shepherd! flout     The irritable Echo till she raves     As man behaves,     So God apportions, doing what is best     For you, and for the rest.     As man behaves! You do not help me much,     Nay, sir, nor touch     The central point at all,     Retributive, mechanical,     I see it. But outside all this     I miss . . . I miss . . .     Sir, know you Death?     Permit me introduce     No? Whats the use?     The use! . . . One thing I can collect,     You have but scant respect     For Death. Why, sir, he made a feint     That very minute at you, quaint!     The way he grins and skips, Whips! whips!     Down! down! good dog! good Death!     To heel, you rogue!     Good Death! good dog!     Youd rather not behold him?     Ive told him, I faith,     Hed frighten you, would Death.     Provoked me, yes, you did,     The shepherd chid     His lagging hound,     I had no other thought     But how mad Echo caught     The sound     Of that exasperant call,     And made it bound     Back from the mountain wall.