Byron's Epitaph to his Newfoundland dog, Boatswain
Near this spot
Are deposited the Remains of one
Who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices.
This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
If inscribed over human ashes,
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
BOATSWAIN, a DOG
Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803,
And died at Newstead, Nov 18th, 1808.
A
Memorial Poem to Boatswain
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 urns record 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, 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 forgiven,
And
claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.
Oh
man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased
by slavery, 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,
Pass
on --- it honours none you wish to mourn:
To
mark a friend's remains these stones arise;
I
never knew but one, --- and here he lies.
by Lord Byron
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