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1730 - 1774
ЭЛЕГИЯ НА СМЕРТЬ ПСА
An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog
- GOOD people all, of every sort,
- Give ear unto my song,
- And if you find it wondrous short,
- It cannot hold you long.
- In Islington there was a man,
- Of whom the world might say,
- That still a godly race he ran,
- Whene'er he went to pray.
- A kind and gentle heart he had,
- To comfort friends and foes;
- The naked every day he clad,
- When he put on his clothes.
- And in that town a dog was found,
- As many dogs there be,
- Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
- And curs of low degree.
- This dog and man at first were friends;
- But when a pique began,
- The dog, to gain his private ends,
- Went mad, and bit the man.
- Around from all the neighboring streets
- The wond'ring neighbors ran,
- And swore the dog had lost his wits,
- To bite so good a man.
- The wound it seem'd both sore and sad
- To every Christian eye;
- And while they swore the dog was mad,
- They swore the man would die.
- But soon a wonder came to light,
- That show'd the rogues they lied:
- The man recover'd of the bite --
- The dog it was that died.
© 2000 Elena and