 | New Poems by George Crabbe |  |
Lord Byron's Inscript upon a Newfoundland Dog
From whence, Lord B., did your Lordship findThis horrid Picture of undone Mankind?
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Thy Dogs? thy friends? or thine own Head & Heart?
Thy Dog could nothing of the matter tell,
But his poor Master could have done as well.
If Friends, thy friends can make th' assertions true
The Friends of Satan are a nobler crew.
If your own Heart inspir'd your angry Pen,
No Wonder you exclaim: “What Brutes are men!”
But if your Head alone, your Wit & Spleen,
Have drawn mankind so wretched & so mean,
If these have sketched for you th' abandonn'd Race,
So worse than brutal & so more than base,
Recant, my Lord, & learn what numbers live
Thy Powers t'admire, thyne error to forgive.
Ten thousand minds in either sex agree
To prove thy falshood & to pity thee,
And many a fervent Prayer to Heav'n is sent
Thou migh'st thy Verses or thy Life repent—
That like thy Friend, the Dog, thou wouldst be mute,
Or mourn and be above the Brute.
| New Poems by George Crabbe | |