AN ELEGY ON A LAP-DOG
by: John Gay (1685-1732)
POEMS BY JOHN GAY
- HOCK'S fate I mourn; poor Shock
is now no more,
- Ye Muses mourn, ye chamber-maids deplore.
- Unhappy Shock! yet more unhappy fair,
- Doom'd to survive thy joy and only care!
- Thy wretched fingers now no more shall deck,
- And tie the fav'rite ribbon round his neck;
- No more thy hand shall smooth his glossy hair,
- And comb the wavings of his pendent ear.
- Yet cease thy flowing grief, forsaken maid;
- All mortal pleasures in a moment fade:
- Our surest hope is in an hour destroy'd,
- And love, best gift of heav'n, not long enjoy'd.
- Methinks I see her frantic with despair,
- Her streaming eyes, wrung hands, and flowing hair
- Her Mechlen pinners rent the floor bestrow,
- And her torn fan gives real signs of woe.
- Hence Superstition, that tormenting guest,
- That haunts with fancied fears the coward breast;
- No dread events upon his fate attend,
- Stream eyes no more, no more thy tresses rend.
- Tho' certain omens oft forewarn a state,
- And dying lions show the monarch's fate;
- Why should such fears bid Celia's sorrow rise?
- For when a lap-dog falls no lover dies.
- Cease, Celia, cease; restrain thy flowing tears,
- Some warmer passion will dispel thy cares.
- In man you'll find a more substantial bliss,
- More grateful toying, and a sweeter kiss.
- He's dead. Oh lay him gently in the ground!
- And may his tomb be by this verse renown'd.
- Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid;
- Who fawn'd like man, but ne'er like man betray'd.