Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide Two angel forms were seen to glide, The Genii of the stream: Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue Through richest purple to the view Betrayed a golden gleam.

The hapless Nymph with wonder saw: A whisker first and then a claw, With many an ardent wish, She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize.

What female heart can gold despise?

What Cat's averse to fish?

Presumptous Maid! with looks intent Again she stretched, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf between.

(Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled.) The slippery verge her feet beguiled, She tumbled headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood She mewed to every watery G.o.d, Some speedy aid to send.

No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred: Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard,-- A Favorite has no friend!

From hence, ye Beauties, undeceived, Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved, And be with caution bold.

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all that glisters, gold.

Thomas Gray [1716-1771]

VERSES ON A CAT

Clubby! thou surely art, I ween, A Puss of most majestic mien, So stately all thy paces!

With such a philosophic air Thou seek'st thy professorial chair, And so demure thy face is!

And as thou sit'st, thine eye seems fraught With such intensity of thought That could we read it, knowledge Would seem to breathe in every mew, And learning yet undreamt by you Who dwell in Hall or College.

Oh! when in solemn taciturnity Thy brain seems wandering through eternity, What happiness were mine Could I then catch the thoughts that flow, Thoughts such as ne'er were hatched below, But in a head like thine.

Oh then, throughout the livelong day, With thee I'd sit and purr away In ecstasy sublime; And in thy face, as from a book, I'd drink in science at each look, Nor fear the lapse of time.

Charles Daubeny [1745-1827]

EPITAPH ON A HARE

Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, Nor swifter greyhound follow, Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew, Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo;

Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined, Was still a wild Jack-hare.

Though duly from my hand he took His pittance every night, He did it with a jealous look, And, when he could, would bite.

His diet was of wheaten bread, And milk, and oats, and straw; Thistles, or lettuces instead, With sand to scour his maw.

On twigs of hawthorn he regaled, On pippins' russet peel; And, when his juicy salads failed, Sliced carrot pleased him well.

A Turkey carpet was his lawn, Whereon he loved to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn, And swing his rump around.

His frisking was at evening hours, For then he lost his fear; But most before approaching showers, Or when a storm drew near.

Eight years and five round-rolling moons He thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons, And every night at play.

I kept him for his humor's sake, For he would oft beguile My heart of thoughts that made it ache, And force me to a smile.

But now, beneath this walnut-shade He finds his long, last home, And waits, in snug concealment laid, Till gentler Puss shall come.

He, still more aged, feels the shocks From which no care can save, And, partner once of Tiney's box, Must soon partake his grave.

William Cowper [1731-1800]

ON THE DEATH OF MRS. THROCKMORTON'S BULLFINCH

Ye Nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red With tears o'er hapless favorites shed, O share Maria's grief!

Her favorite, even in his cage, (What will not hunger's cruel rage?) a.s.sa.s.sined by a thief.

Where Rhenus strays his vines among, The egg was laid from which he sprung, And though by nature mute, Or only with a whistle blessed, Well-taught, he all the sounds expressed Of flageolet or flute.

The honors of his ebon poll Were brighter than the sleekest mole; His bosom of the hue With which Aurora decks the skies, When piping winds shall soon arise To sweep away the dew.

Above, below, in all the house, Dire foe alike of bird and mouse, No cat had leave to dwell; And Bully's cage supported stood, On props of smoothest-shaven wood, Large-built and latticed well.

Well-latticed,--but the grate, alas!

Not rough with wire of steel or bra.s.s, For Bully's plumage sake, But smooth with wands from Ouse's side, With which, when neatly peeled and dried, The swains their baskets make.

Night veiled the pole--all seemed secure-- When, led by instinct sharp and sure, Subsistence to provide, A beast forth sallied on the scout, Long-backed, long-tailed, with whiskered snout, And badger-colored hide.

He, entering at the study-door, Its ample area 'gan explore; And something in the wind Conjectured, sniffing round and round, Better than all the books he found, Food, chiefly, for the mind.

Just then, by adverse fate impressed A dream disturbed poor Bully's rest; In sleep he seemed to view A rat, fast-clinging to the cage, And, screaming at the sad presage, Awoke and found it true.

For, aided both by ear and scent, Right to his mark the monster went-- Ah, Muse! forbear to speak Minute the horror that ensued; His teeth were strong, the cage was wood-- He left poor Bully's beak.

O had he made that too his prey!

That beak, whence issued many a lay Of such mellifluous tone, Might have repaid him well, I wote, For silencing so sweet a throat, Fast stuck within his own.

Maria weeps,--the Muses mourn;-- So, when by Baccha.n.a.lians torn, On Thracian Hebrus' side The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell, His head alone remained to tell The cruel death he died.

William Cowper [1731-1800]

AN ELEGY ON A LAP-DOG

Shock's fate I mourn; poor Shock is now no more: Ye Muses! mourn; ye Chambermaids! deplore.