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Sed qui succisas doleo fuccidar et ipse,
Tam fubitò periiffe videns tam digna manere
EPITAPH ON A HARE.
Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow,
Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo',
Old Tiney, furliest of his kind,
Who, nurs'd with tender care, And to domestic bounds confin'd,
Was still a wild Jack-hare.
Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance ev'ry night, He did it with a jealous look,
And, when he could, would bite.
His diet was of wheaten bread
And milk, and oats, and straw , Thistles, or lettuces instead,
With fand to scour his maw.
On twigs of hawthorn he regal'd,
On pippins' russet peel,
Slic'd carrot pleas'd him wella
A Turkey carpet was his lawn
Whereon he lov'd to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around.
His frisking was at evening hours,
For then he lost his fear,
Or when a storm drew near.
Eight years and five round-rolling moons
He'thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons,
And ev'ry night at play.
I kept him for his humour' sake,
For he would oft beguile My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.
But now, beneath this walnut shade
He finds his long, laft home, And waits, in snug concealment laid,
Till gentler Puss shall come.
He, ftill more aged, feels the shocks
From which no care can save, And, partner once of Tiney's box,
Mult soon partake his grave.