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."