An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog
Oliver Goldsmith's comic elegy, given a whole picture book by Randolph Caldecott. In Islington there lived a man so good that he clothed the naked every day — when he put on his own clothes. A dog in the same town falls out with him over some private end of its own, goes mad and bites him; the neighbours come running, swear the dog has lost its wits to bite so good a man, and settle in to watch the man die. The joke is in the last verse, and Goldsmith holds it back until then. Caldecott's drawings crowd several to a page and do most of the work of the satire.
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