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Her conscious tail her joy declared;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,

Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She saw; and purr'd applause.
Still had she gazed; but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The Genii of the stream:

Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue

Through richest purple to the view Betray'd a golden gleam. The hapless Nymph with wonder saw: A whisker first, and then a claw, With many an ardent wish,

She stretch'd in vain to reach the priwr.

What female heart can gold despise? What Cat's averse to fish? Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent Again she stretch'd, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf between.

(Malignant Fate sate by, and smiled)

The slipp'ry verge her feet beguiled,
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood,
She mew'd to ev'ry wat'ry God,
Some speedy aid to send.

No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirrM:

Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard—
A fav'rite has no friend!
From hence, ye beauties, undeceived,
Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved

And be with caution bold.
Not all that tenjpts your wand'ring ejC£
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize

Nor all, that glisters, gold

III. ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF
ETON COLLEGE.

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Menandtr*

Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,

That crown the wat'ry glade, Where grateful Science still adores

Her Henry's* holy shade;

And ye, that from the stately brow

Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey;

Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among

Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way!

Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade!

Ah fields beloved in vain,
Where once my careless childhood stray'd

A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow,
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,
Disporting on thy margent green,

The paths of pleasure trace,
Who foremost now delight to cleave
With pliant arm thy glassy wave?
The captive linnet which enthral?

What idle progeny succeed

To chase the rolling circle's speed, Or urge the flying ball?

* King Henry the Sixth, founder of the College.

While some on earnest business bent

Their murm'ring laoours piy
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint

To sweeten liberty:
Some bold adventurers disdain.
The limits of their little reign,
And unknown regions dare descry:

Still as they run they look behind,

They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.

Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,

Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed,

The sunshine of the breast: Theirs buxom health of rosy hue, Wild wit, invention ever new, And lively cheer of vigour born;

The thougVtless day, the easy night,

The spirits pure, the slumbers light, That fly th' approach of morn.

Alas! regardless of their doom,

The little victims play!
No sense have they of ills to come,

Nor care beyond to-day:
Yet see how all around 'em wait
The ministers of human fate,
And black Misfortune's baleful train:

Ah, shew them where in ambush stand,

To seize their prey, the murth'rous band Ah, tell them they are men! These shall the fury Passions tear,

The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,

And Shame that scuiks behind; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth,

That inly gnaws the secret heart,
And Eavy wan, and faded Care,
Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,
And Sorrow's piercing dart.
Ambition this shall tempt to rise,

Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,

And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood those shall try, And hard Unkindness* alter'd eye, That mocks the tear it forced to flow; And keen Remorse with blood denied* And moody Madness laughing wild Amid severest woe. Lo, in the vale of years beneath

A griesly troop are seen, The painful family of Death,

More hideous than their queen: This racks the joints, this fires the vein*, That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: Lo, Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hind, And slow-consuming Age. To each his sufferings: all are men,

Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain,

Th* unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, Aud happiness too swiftly flies?

Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss. Tig folly to be wise

IV. TO ADVERSITY.

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Muchylus, in Agamemnon

Daughter of Jove, relentless power,

Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour

The Bad affright, afflict the Best!
^Jound in thy adamantine chain
The proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone
When first thy sire to send on earth

Virtue, his darling child, designed,
To thee he gave the heav'nly birth,

And bade to form her inf nt mind.
Stern rugged Nurse! tny rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know,
And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe»
Scared at thy frown terrific, fly

Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
WTild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy

And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the flattering Foe;
By vain Prosperity received,

To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
Wisdom in sable garb array'd,

Immersed in rapt'rous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid,

With leaden eye, that loves the ground,

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