’Twas on a lofty vase’s side, Where
China’s gayest art had dyed the azure flowers that blow, Demurest
of the tabby kind, The
pensive Selima, reclined, Gazed on the lake below. 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 prize – 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 sat by and smiled – The
slippery verge her feet beguiled; She tumbled headlong in! Eight
times emerging from the flood She
mew’d to every watery God Some speedy aid to send: – No
Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr’d, Nor
cruel Tom nor Susan heard – 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! |
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