Boatswain, a Dog, 

 Who was born at Newfoundland, May 1803, 

 And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. 18, 1808. 



Epitaph 



When some proud son of man returns to earth, 

 Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, 

 The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, 

 And storied urn records who rest below ; 

 When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, 

 Not what he was, but what he should have been : 

 But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, 

 The first to welcome, the foremost to defend. 

 Whose honest heart is still his master's own, 

 Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, 

 Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth, 

 Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth : 

 While man, vain insect ! hopes to be forgiv'n, 

 And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven. 

 Oh, man ! thou feeble tenant of an hour, 

 Debas'd by slav'ry or corrupt by power, 

 Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust ; 

 Degraded mass of animated dust ! 

 Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, 

 Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit ! 

 By nature vile, ennobled but by name, 

 Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. 

 Ye ! who perchance behold this simple urn, 

 M 1 C) 1 



