Weekly American. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1858-1858, 1858-01-30
OLD DOBBIN.

Z -
principles embraced in our platform.
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OLD DOBBIN.
HANNAH MORE.
Here's song for old Dobbin, whose temper and
worth |
Are too to be spurned on the score of his birth
He's creature Of trust, and what more should we
M heed?
'Tis deeds and not blood make the man and the
steed.
He bred in the forest, and trained on the plain
Where the thistle has cung to his fetlock and name.
All ugly and rough. not soul could espy
The spark Of good humor that dweIt in his eye.
The summer had waned, and the autumn months
Into those Of stern winter, all dreary and cold
But the north wind might whistle, the snow flake
aa might dance, ffs M
The colt of the common was left, to his chance
Half starved and half frozen, the hail storm would
pelt
Till his shiverng limbs told the pangs that he felt;
But we pited the brute, and, though laughed at by
all,
We filled him manger and gave him STALL
He was fond spaniel, and soon he became
The pride of the herd-boy the pet of the DAME
You may Judge of his fame, when his price was a
crown;
But we christened him Dobbin, and called him our
own.
He grew out of colthood, and, 10! what changed
The knowing ones hid it is mortally strange;
Fort fha oIs,ft he tofth he
Attracted the notice of jockeys of taste
The line of his symmetry was not exact;
But lis PAGES were clever, his mould was compact;
And his shaggy thick coat now appeared with a
gloss
Shining out like the gold that's been purged of its
dross.
We broke him for service, and tamely he wore
Girth and rein, seeming proud of the thraldom he
bore;
Every farm had a steed for all work and all hours,
And Dobbin, the sturdy bay pony, was ours.
He carried his master to barter his grain,
And ever returned with him safely again
There was merit in that, for, deny it who may,
When the master could not, Dobbin could find his
way.
The dairy-maid ventured her eggs on his back:
Twas him, and him only she'd trust with the pack.
The team horses lted, the roadster played pranks,
So DobDin alone had her faith and her thanks
We fun-loving urchins would group by his side;
We might feailessy mount him, aud daringly de;
We might creep through his legs we might plat his
long tail;
But his temper and patience were ne'er known to
We would brush his bright hide till it was free from
speck;
We kiss d his brow muzzle, and hugged his thick
neck,
OH we prized him like life, and heart-breaking
sob
Ever burst when they threatened to sell our dear
Dob.
He stood to the collar, and tugged up the hill,
With the pigs to the market the grist to the mill;
With saddle or halter, in shaft or in trace,
He was stanch TO his work, and content with his
place.
When the hot crowning the toll of the year,
He sent to the reapers with ale and good cheer;
And none in the corn-felds more welcome was seen
Than Dob and his well-laden panniers, ween.
Oh those days of pure bliss shall ever forget,
When decked out his head with the azure rosette
ALI frantic with Joy to be off to the fair,
With Dobbin, good Dobbin to carry us there
He was dear to us all ay, for msny long years
But mercy hows this my eyes filing with tears,
Oh u how cruelty sweet are the echoes that start
When memory plays an old tune on the heart.
There are drops on my cheek, there's throb in my
breast st
But my song shall not cease nor my pen take its
rest
Till tell that cd Dobbin still lives TO be seen,
With his oats in the stable his tares on the green
His best years have gone by, and the master who
gave
The stern yoke to his youth has enfrancbised the
slave
So brouse on my old Dobbin, nor dream Of the knife
For the wealth Of king should not purchase thy
lfe