C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Epitaph on a Favorite Hunting-Dog

Translation of Harriet Waters Preston

NATIVE of Gaul was I, and the name they gave me was Cockle,

After a white sea-shell. I was beautiful too,

Ay, and brave! I would scour the darkest depths of the forest,

Or upon desolate hill startle the quarry hirsute.

Never was need at all of ugly chains to withhold me,

Never an insolent lash wounded my snowy skin;

Softly I used to lie in the lap of my lord or my lady,

Or on the high state bed, when I came panting home.

Even my bark, men said, awoke no terror insensate:

Only a poor dumb beast, yet with a speech of my own!

Nevertheless the doom ordained from my birthday o’ertook me,

Wherefore I sleep in earth under this tiny stone.