Concealed beneath a mangled heap,

His hurried search had missedAll glowing from his rosy sleep, His cherub boy he kissed.

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread

But the same couch beneath,

Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead-
Tremendous still in death.

Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain!
For now the truth was clear:
The gallant hound the wolf had slain,
To save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe: "Best of thy kind adieu !

The frantic deed which laid thee low.

This heart shall ever rue."

mm

A JOURNEY IN AFRICA.