Though Once A Puppy, And Though Fop By Name, Here Moulders One Whose Bones Some Honour Claim. No Sycophant, Although Of Spaniel Race, And Though No Hound, A Martyr To The Chace' Ye Squirrels, Rabbits, Leverets, Rejoice, Your Haunts No Longer Echo To His Voice; This Record Of His Fate Exulting View, He Died Worn Out With Vain Pursuit Of You. 'Yes,''The Indignant Shade Of Fop Replies' 'And Worn With Vain Pursuit, Man Also Dies.'