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DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT,
DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES.
'Twas on a lofty vase's side,
The azure flowers, that blow;
Gazed on the lake below.
and purr'd applause.
The Genii of the stream :
The hapless nymph with wonder saw ;
With many an ardent wish,
What Cat's averse to fish ?
Presumptuous maid ! with looks intent Again she stretch'd, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between.
She tumbled headlong in.
Some speedy aid to send.
A favourite 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.
ON A DISTANT
PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE.
'Ανθρωπος, έκανή πρόφασις εις το δυστυχεϊν.
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the watery glade,
Her Henry's * holy shade ;
grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along
His silver-winding way :
Ah, fields beloved in vain !
A stranger yet to pain !
* King Henry the Sixth, founder of the College.
As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to sooth, And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second Spring.
Say, father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race
The paths of pleasure trace;
The captive linuet which enthral ?
Or urge the flying ball ?
While some on earnest business bent,
Their murmuring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty :
And unknown regions dare descry :
And snatch a fearful joy..
Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possess'd; The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the brcast.
Theirs buxom health, of
And lively cheer, of vigour born ;
That fly the approach of morn.
Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play ;
Nor care beyond to-day :
And black Misfortune's baleful train ! Ah, show them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murderous band !
Ah, tell them they are men !
These shall the fury Passions tear,
The vultures of the mind,
And Shame that skulks behind ;
That inly gnaws the secret heart;
And Sorrow's piercing dart.
Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high,