LINES ON THE TOMB OF A FAVOURITE DOG.

HERE rests the image of a friend, —
 Thine, cherish'd BIBI, thine! 
Oft to this spot our steps we'll bend,
 And call it Friendship's shrine. 

Through length'ning years' successive flight
 Thy fondness still had power
 To shed its narrow line of light
 On life's domestic hour;

And while for pleasures sought amiss
 Abroad we vainly roam,
 How far more dear the slightest bliss
 That adds one charm to home! 

Let those who coldly scorn the tear
 That soothes the grief we prove,
 Say, if fidelity be dear,
 If love has claims to love;

Say, on what hallow'd spot there lives
 A heart unknown to range,
 That to one chosen object gives
 A love no power can change? 

Tell, in what tender breast to find
 Affection half so true? —
 Ah, BIBI, who of human kind
 Has learnt to love like you!