Though once a puppy, and though Fop by name, <br />Here moulders one whose bones some honour claim; <br />No sycophant, although of spaniel race, <br />And though no hound, a martyr to the chase. <br />Ye squirrels, rabbits, leverets, rejoice! <br />Your haunts no longer echo to his voice; <br />This record of his fate exulting view, <br />He died worn out with vain pursuit of you. <br />'Yes' -- the indignant shade of Fop replies-- <br />'And worn with vain pursuit man also dies.'<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epitaph-on-fop-a-dog-belonging-to-lady-throckmorton/
