Her dead lady's joy and comfort, <br />Who departed this life <br />The last day of March, 1727: <br />To the great joy of Bryan <br />That his antagonist is gone. <br /> <br />And is poor Tiger laid at last so low? <br />O day of sorrow! -Day of dismal woe! <br />Bloodhounds, or spaniels, lap-dogs, 'tis all one, <br />When Death once whistles -snap! -away they're gone. <br />See how she lies, and hangs her lifeless ears, <br />Bathed in her mournful lady's tears! <br />Dumb is her throat, and wagless is her tail, <br />Doomed to the grave, to Death's eternal jail! <br />In a few days this lovely creature must <br />First turn to clay, and then be changed to dust. <br />That mouth which used its lady's mouth to lick <br />Must yield its jaw-bones to the worms to pick. <br />That mouth which used the partridge-wing to eat <br />Must give its palate to the worms to eat. <br /> <br />Methinks I see her now in Charon's boat <br />Bark at the Stygian fish which round it float; <br />While Cerberus, alarmed to hear the sound, <br />Makes Hell's wide concave bellow all around. <br />She sees him not, but hears him through the dark, <br />And valiantly returns him bark for bark. <br />But now she trembles -though a ghost, she dreads <br />To see a dog with three large yawning heads. <br />Spare her, you hell-hounds, case your frightful paws, <br />And let poor Tiger 'scape your furious jaws. <br />Let her go safe to the Elysian plains, <br />Where Hylax barks among the Mantuan swains; <br />There let her frisk about her new-found love: <br />She loved a dog when she was here above. <br /> <br />The Epitaph <br /> <br />Here lies beneath this marble <br />An animal could bark, or warble: <br />Sometimes a bitch, sometimes a bird, <br />Could eat a tart, or eat a t -.<br /><br />Jonathan Swift<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/elegy-upon-tiger/
