XXVII. The Dog, Treasure, and Vulture

A Dog, while scratching up the ground,

’Mongst human bones a treasure found;

But as his sacrilege was great,

To covet riches was his fate,

And punishment of his offence;

He therefore never stirr’d from thence,

But both in hunger and the cold,

With anxious care he watch’d the gold,

Till wholly negligent of food,

A ling’ring death at length ensued.

Upon his corse a Vulture stood,

And thus descanted:— “It is good,

O Dog, that there thou liest bereaved

Who in the highway wast conceived,

And on a scurvy dunghill bred,

Hadst royal riches in thy head.”

Riley