The headstone read,
Epitaph to a Dog
Near this spot
are deposited the remains
of one who posessed 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 Abbey
Nov 18, 1808
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 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 won,
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 stories arise;
I never knew but one - and there he lies.
- Lord Byron
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