Epitaph to a Dog

Epitaph to a Dog is a poem by the English poet Lord Byron. It was written in 1808 in honour of his Newfoundland dog, Boatswain, who had just died of rabies. When Boatswain contracted the disease, Byron reportedly nursed him without any fear of becoming bitten and infected. [ [http://www.wisdom-uk.com/English/DisplayArticle.php?filename=English-04.htm Wisdom Magazine article: Lord Byron; leading figure of Romanticism in English] ] The poem is inscribed on Boatswain's tomb, which is larger than Byron's, at Newstead Abbey, Byron's estate. [Eisler, B. 1999. "Byron: Child of Passion, Fool of Fame". New York: Alfred A. Knopf ISBN 0679412999 p 161]

The opening lines, long thought to have been written by Byron, were found to have been written by his friend John Hobhouse. Byron had originally planned to use just the last two lines as the inscription. [ [http://www.dogquotations.com/grieving-and-loss.html Dogquotations.com Accessed 2007-9-8] ]

Epitaph to a Dog

:Near this Spot:are deposited the Remains of one:who possessed Beauty without Vanity,:Strength without Insolence,:Courage without Ferosity,: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 in Newfoundland May 1803:and died at Newstead Nov. 18, 1808. :When some proud Son of Man returns to Earth,:Unknown by Glory, but upheld by Birth,:The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe,:And storied urns record who rests 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,:Unhonoured 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 tongue hypocrisy, thy words deceit!:By nature vile, ennoble but by name,:Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.:Ye, who perchance behold this simple urn,:Pass on – it honors none you wish to mourn.:To mark a friend’s remains these stones arise;:I never knew but one – and here he lies. [Text of the poem at Poetry Lovers Page: [http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/byron/byron_ind.html "Epitaph to a Dog"] ]

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