It seems that during a trip the Scots poet Burns made to Galloway in July 1793,
he was the guest of the Gordon family. Mrs. Gordon's dog Echo had just passed
away, and she was asking everyone for memorial verses. She was not about to
let an actual, bona-fide poet get away without adding his genius to the mix -
so even though he wasn't happy about it, Burns manned up.
And here's the resulting poem.
On the Death of a Lap-Dog, Named Echo.
In wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now, half extinct your powers of song,
Sweet Echo is no more.
Ye jarring, screeching things around,
Scream your discordant joys;
Now, half your din of tuneless sound
With Echo silent lies.
- Washington, United States
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