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And where, secure as mouse in chink,
Nature perhaps herself had cast her
Or else she learn’d it of her master Sometimes ascending, debonnair, An apple tree, or lofty pear, Lodged with convenience in the fork, She watch'd the gardener at his work ; Sometimes her ease and solace sought In an old empty watering pot : There, wanting nothing save a fan, To seem some nymph in her sedan Apparell’d in exactest sort, And ready to be borne to court.
But love of change, it seems, has place Not only in our wiser race ; Cats also feel, as well as we, That passion's force, and so did she. Her climbing, she began to find, Exposed her too much to the wind, And the old utensil of tin Was cold and comfortless within :
he had at the same time, and which used to play with one of tbe hares continually. One evening, the cat giving one of the bares a sound box on the car, the hare ran after her, and, having caught her, punished her by drumming on her back with her two feet, as hard as drum-sticks, till the creature would have actually been killed, had not Mrs. Unwin rescued her.”
She therefore wish'd instead of those
A drawer, it chanced, at bottom lined
Awaken’d by the shock (cried Puss)
Merely to prove a nest for me, 3. For soon as I was well composed, " Then came the maid, and it was closed,
How smooth these 'kerchiefs, and how sweet!
The evening came, the sun descended,
That night, by chance, the poet watching, Heard an inexplicable scratching; . His noble heart went pit-a-pat, And to himself he said—“What's that?” He drew the curtain at his side, And forth he peep'd, but nothing spied. Yet, by his ear directed, guess'd Something imprison'd in the chest, And, doubtful what, with prudent care ;'; Resolved it should continue there. ' . ii At length a voice which well he knew, . ' A long and melancholy mew, . . of
Saluting his poetic ears,
Beware of too sublime a sense
THE JUDGMENT OF THE POETS.
Two nymphs, both nearly of an age,
Of numerous charms possess d, warm dispute once chanced to wage,
Whose temper was the best.
Had both alike been mild :
Frown'd oftener than she smiled. And in her humour, when she frown'd,
Would raise her voice, and roar, And shake with fury to the ground
The garland that she wore. The other was of gentler cast,
From all such frenzy clear, Her frowns were seldom known to last,
And never proved severe. To poets of renown in song
The nymphs referr'd the cause, Who, strange to tell, all judg’d it wrong,
And gave misplaced applause. They gentle call'd, and kind and soft,
The flippant and the scold, And though she changed her mood so oft,
That failing left untold.