Guardians of the village wealth,
Foes declar'd to fraud and stealth,
Tenants of the chearful hearth,
Frequent cause of harmless mirth,
Welcome to their master's board,
Partners of his scanty hoard.
See before the wicket gate,
Curs parade in mimic state,
Heedless of the proffer'd bone,
Eager still to guard their own,
Each his faithful service pays,
And with threat'ning aspect bays.