O DE

ON THE DEATH OF A

FAVOURITE CAT,

Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes.

B

BRITISH

OD E

ON THE DEATH OF A

FAVOURITE CAT,

Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes.

TWAS on a lofty vafe's fide,

TWי

Where China's gayeft art had dy'd

The azure flowers that blow ;
Demureft of the taby kind,
The penfive Selima reclin'd,

Gaz'd on the lake below.

Her confcious tail her joy declar'd;
The fair round face, the fnowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,

Her coat that with the tortoife vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She faw, and púrr'd applause.

Still had the gaz'd; but 'midft the tide
Two angel forms were feen to glide,
The Genii of the stream;

Their fcally armour's Tyrian hue
Thro' richest purple to the view
Betray'd a golden gleam.

The haplefs nymph with wonder faw:
A whisker firft and then a claw,

With many an ardent wish,

She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise ?
What cat's averfe to fish?

Prefumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again the stretch'd, again fhe bent,

Nor knew the gulf between.
(Malignant Fate fat by and fmil'd)
The flipp'ry verge her feet beguil'd,
She tumbled headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood
She mew'd to ev'ry watʼry God,
Some speedy aid to send.

No dolphin came, no Nereid ftirr'd;
Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard;
A fav'rite has no friend!

From hence, ye beauties, undeceiv'd, Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd, And be with caution bold.

Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes And heedlefs hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all that glifters, gold.