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THE CAT.

ENOUGH of Dogs, the pensive muse has sung,
Dogs dead as Deborah, that never can
To active life and servitude return,

How great soe'er the grief or pure the strain,
As sure the former was old Dash for thee :
For thee poor Tray the sorrowing sigh sincere:
But woe obdurate for assured loss,

Makes the sigh impious; and the trickling tear
An object of derision, not applause:
Then recollection, serving to repeat,
And candour, to allow the adage old,
"That any creature of the race canine,
Is better living than a lion dead;"
Why may not I, unfetter'd in my choice,
If young and vig'rous, compare, prefer,
Inferior quadruped to dog defunct ?
Suggestion fair, most just and opportune-
For lo! to fix me in my wavering will,
A fine SHE-CAT-just lighted on my knee,
With pur
of song, and cock of tail erect,
Frisky and stiff, and strengthening with the stroke,
My present fancy takes-Unfruitful theme!

As ever enter'd a poor poet's pate,

Perplex'd his beating brains for many an hour,
And came at last in tuneful numbers thence :-
Yet I'll not spurn thee forth in proud disdain,
Good natur'd as thou art-but mark thee well;
And with most curious mind attempt to trace
Thy general usefulness, and nature's bent.

Oh gentle Tabby! much do I admire
Thy graceful form, thy smooth and cleanly skin,
By rough tongue cleans'd, and ear by foot refresh'd;
Tho' of thy tribe some not so cleanly are,

Turning their cold backs to the blazing hearth;
Round two fore legs their long tails curling close,
Sure sign of winter and of frost severe :
Then in the dying embers stretch them forth,
And warm'd at length, indulge relaxed frame
With sleep unbroken but by cinder hot,
Singeing the yielding side or flinching tail,
Till lazy maid in far advanced morn,
At length disturb them in their ashy bed,
And send them forth in most unseemly plight;
When like the unwash'd sloven they retire,
Shake not their filth, but mope and crawl about
Till night allow them to indulge again :
But beauteous mostly is thy fancy coat,
And glaring glistening eyes of hazle hue,
When on the visual membrane falls the light;
Yet still more beauteous when thy shining orbs,
In many a varied ray illúme the dark.

Sworn foe to rats and mice! obnoxious race,-
(For, tho' we know not what, some purpose form'd,
High Heaven having nothing made in vain,
So are we taught to think)-how oft hast thou
From the first twinkling of the morning's eye,
Till drowsy evening slumber'd into night,
Yea all night too, when every lid but thine
Unconscious of thy watchfulness was clos'd,
And all unmindful of the choicest food,

Tho' cream stood near or savory gudgeon by,
At other times the sweetest, daintiest fare—
Intent alone on what blind chance might give
To thy impatient persevering catch;

Tho' frost severe, bleak winds, and pelting rain,
Attack'd most bitterly thy short-furr'd sides,
With fixed eye watch'd some old rotten hole,
Waiting with ready foot audacious rat,—
Or cautious, timid, yet adventurous mouse
Just peeping forth, to grapple in thy claw.

This thy exclusive province, dextrous Puss:
And if I judge thy attributes aright,

For this, this only wert thou first produc'd;
All other use on accident depends;

On young child's play, or some old maid's caprice, (For first, unform'd thy sharp and spiteful claw; For latter fit-who once enrag'd, I ween,

Can in a scuffle as adroitly scratch,)
Dependant for subsistence and esteem

But much indulgence spoils both man and beast;
The half-rear'd youth from being too finely bred,
Knows not the end or purpose of his being;
Earns not his living, but contented feeds,
On that for which his foolish father toil'd:
Nor stops e'en there-but what he has not, spends
Phrase paradoxical, but no less true:

So Kitten,-tickled, strok'd, and nicely fed,
Foregoes its nature, sinks to careless sloth,
Loses all relish for its proper game,

Hangs on the ill-plac'd favour of the fair,

Fatten'd by that on which lean want shou'd feed.
But wond'rous are the things thine ear hath heard,
And marvellous the things thine eye
hath seen,

If that thy tongue the secrets cou'd disclose ;

Things that wou'd freeze th' arrested blood to feel,
And but to hear, make the fell'd hair start up ;-
'Mongst other matters, fully coud'st thou speak
Of characters defam'd, and virtue lost,
Of houses robb'd, and murders too perform'd,
In sight of Heaven's broad eye and thee alone.
Yes, pretty Puss! full often hast thou heard
The tittle-tattle o'er a dish of tea;
And wou'd that tittle-tattle, always pass'd
As harmless round as by thy callous ear,
Callous to sense, tho' sensible of sound.-
Yes thou hast heard, but never understood,
How fair Fidelia,-artless, young, and warm,
Yet chaste as bleached snow on northern hill,

By the low whisper'd rumour lost her fame;
On whose sweet bosom as the venom❜d breath,
Of blighting slander, pass'd insiduous by,
A settling angel clos'd his milk-white wings,
Smother'd the tale and took it to himself.-
And thou hast heard, I will not say how true-
Assertion's round, insinuation sly;-
If true uncharitable, and if false,
Shameful to tell, and not to be forgiv❜n,
When one frail mortal for a venial slip
Pursues another with unfeeling gall;

But this our error, and thus scandal runs,-
How Lady Mary's shape was much increas'd,
Like as 'twas said the influence of the Crown,
That still increas'd, and should diminish'd be.
And how Miss Jenny's from that frightful size
Shrunk on a sudden less than 'twas before;
Changes that set conjecture at a stand,
Unless my Lady's Footman chose to blab,

Or

yet his Lordship speak to Jenny's case. Or spruce young Surgeon sworn to secresy, With full assurance and with ardent hope, In time not distant of some new employ, More to his years congenial, and his wish,More to the lady's liking as his own: Or undivulging sage, Man-Midwife call'd, In muzzy and unguarded moment, picqu'd At stripling so preferr'd, explain for both.-

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