Epigram Engraved On The Collar Of A Dog Which I Gave To His Royal Highness

I am His Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

When wise Ulysses, from his native coast
Long kept by wars, and long by tempests toss'd,
Arrived at last, poor, old, disguised, alone,
To all his friends, and ev'n his Queen unknown,
Changed as he was, with age, and toils, and cares,
Furrow'd his rev'rend face, and white his hairs,
In his own palace forc'd to ask his bread,
Scorn'd by those slaves his former bounty fed,
Forgot of all his own domestic crew,
The faithful Dog alone his rightful master knew!

Unfed, unhous'd, neglected, on the clay
Like an old servant now cashier'd, he lay;
Touch'd with resentment of ungrateful man,
And longing to behold his ancient lord again.
Him when he saw he rose, and crawl'd to meet,
('Twas all he could) and fawn'd and kiss'd his feet,
Seiz'd with dumb joy; then falling...

I am his Highness’s dog at Kew.
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

Principis excelsi coram canis ecce Kevensis.
Dic mihi vicissim quæso cujus canis es tu?

When wise Ulysses, from his native coast
Long kept by wars, and long by tempests toss'd,
Arrived at last, poor, old, disguised, alone,
To all his friends, and even his queen unknown:
Changed as he was with age, and toils, and cares,
Furrow'd his reverend face, and white his hairs,
In his own palace forced to ask his bread,
Scorn'd by those slaves his former bounty fed,
Forgot of all his own domestic crew;
The faithful dog alone his rightful master knew:
Unfed, unhoused, neglected, on the clay,
Like an old servant now cashier'd, he lay;
Touch'd with resentment of ungrateful man,
And longing to behold his ancient lord again.
Him when he saw he rose, and crawl'd to meet,
('Twas all he could) and fawn'd and kiss'd his feet,
Seized with dumb joy: then falling by hi...

A Bishop, by his neighbours hated,
Has cause to wish himself translated:
But why should Hough desire translation,
Loved and esteem'd by all the nation?
Yet, if it be the old man's case,
I'll lay my life I know the place:
'Tis where God sent some that adore Him,
And whither Enoch went before him.

    Dear Brindle, -
    Possibly your name is not Brindle,
    But that is of no consequence;
    The great point, my dear Brindle, being
    That when his Majesty Edward VII.
    Landed at Flushing the other day
    He was accompanied
    By
    You.
    At least so I gather from the halfpenny papers,
    And I am free to admit
    That when I read the paragraph
    Descriptive of your landing at Flushing
    My bosom swelled with honest pride.
    I am not a doggy man myself,
    Dear Brindle,
    And no judge of points.
    Also,
    When I see a dog coming towards me
    I invariably
    Whisper
    "Bite,"
    And consequently
    My hair
    Is apt to stand on end
    Like quills upon the fretful porcupine