University of Virginia Library

THE PARSON, THE SQUIRE, AND THE SPANIEL.

A TALE.

A gentleman possess'd a fav'rite spaniel,
That never treated maid nor man ill:
This dog, of whom we cannot too much say,
Got from his godfather the name of Tray.

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After ten years of service just,
Tray, like the race of mortals, sought the dust—
That is to say, the spaniel died:
A coffin then was order'd to be made,
The dog was in the churchyard laid,
And o'er his pale remains the master cried.
Lamenting much his trusty fur-clad friend,
And willing to commemorate his end,
He rais'd a small blue stone, just after burial,
And, weeping, wrote on it this sweet memorial:

TRAY's EPITAPH.

Here rest the relics of a friend below,
Blest with more sense than half the folks I know:
Fond of his ease, and to no parties prone,
He damn'd no sect, but calmly gnaw'd his bone;
Perform'd his functions well in ev'ry way—
Blush, Christians, if you can, and copy Tray.