MAXWELL, the master, built above
His dog this testament of love,
Where, on a granite block incised,
These words told how the dog was prized:
'Here Patsey lies, by bitter chance
Dead ere his time, by fates unruly;
Stranger, regard this circumstance
And solemn rite; we loved him truly.'

And quite as if 't had been a man,
The slow foot of the moss began,
Envious, to mar this simple state,
And the poor name t' obliterate.