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On the Death of a Favorite Cat 1751

For I so truly thee bemoan

That I shall weep though I be stone,
Until my tears, still dropping, wear
My breast, themselves engraving there;
Then at my feet shalt thou be laid,
Of purest alabaster made;

For I would have thine image be

White as I can, though not as thee.

Andrew Marvell [1621-1678]

ON THE DEATH OF A FAVORITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES

'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 purred applause.

Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,

The Genii of the stream:

Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view
Betrayed a golden gleam.

The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:
A whisker first and then a claw,

With many an ardent wish,

She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?

What Cat's averse to fish?

Presumptous Maid! with looks intent
Again she stretched, 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 mewed to every watery god,
Some speedy aid to send.

No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred:
Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard,-

A Favorite 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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To a Cat

Dogs may fawn on all and some
As they come;

You, a friend of loftier mind,
Answer friends alone in kind.
Just your foot upon my hand
Softly bids it understand.

Morning round this silent sweet
Garden-seat

Sheds its wealth of gathering light,
Thrills the gradual clouds with might,
Changes woodland, orchard, heath,

Lawn and garden there beneath.

Fair and dim they gleamed below:
Now they glow

Deep as even your sun-bright eyes,
Fair as even the wakening skies.
Can it not or can it be

Now that you give thanks to see?

May you not rejoice as I,
Seeing the sky

Change to heaven revealed, and bid
Earth reveal the heaven it hid

All night long from stars and moon,
Now the sun sets all in tune?

What within you wakes with day,
Who can say?

All too little may we tell,

Friends who like each other well,

What might haply, if we might,
Bid us read our lives aright.

II

Wild on woodland ways your sires
Flashed like fires;

Fair as flame and fierce and fleet,

As with wings on wingless feet

1753

Shone and sprang your mother, free,
Bright and brave as wind or sea.

Free and proud and glad as they,
Here to-day

Rests or roams their radiant child,
Vanquished not, but reconciled,
Free from curb of aught above
Save the lovely curb of love.

Love through dreams of souls divine
Fain would shine

Round a dawn whose light and song
Then should right our mutual wrong-
Speak, and seal the love-lit law
Sweet Assisi's seer foresaw.

Dreams were theirs; yet haply may
Dawn a day

When such friends and fellows born,
Seeing our earth as fair at morn,

May for wiser love's sake see

More of heaven's deep heart than we.

Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909]

VERSES ON A CAT

CLUBBY! thou surely art, I ween,
A Puss of most majestic mien,
So stately all thy paces!
With such a philosophic air

Thou seek'st thy professorial chair,

And so demure thy face is!

And as thou sit'st, thine eye seems fraught
With such intensity of thought

That could we read it, knowledge
Would seem to breathe in every mew,
And learning yet undreamt by you

Who dwell in Hall or College.

Epitaph on a Hare

Oh! when in solemn taciturnity

Thy brain seems wandering through eternity,

What happiness were mine

Could I then catch the thoughts that flow,

Thoughts such as ne'er were hatched below,
But in a head like thine.

Oh then, throughout the livelong day,
With thee I'd sit and purr away
In ecstasy sublime;

And in thy face, as from a book,

I'd drink in science at each look,

Nor fear the lapse of time.

1755

Charles Daubeny [1745-1827]

EPITAPH ON A HARE

HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow,
Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo;

Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,

Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined, Was still a wild Jack-hare.

Though duly from my hand he took

His pittance every night,

He did it with a jealous look,

And, when he could, would bite.

His diet was of wheaten bread,
And milk, and oats, and straw;

Thistles, or lettuces instead,

With sand to scour his maw.

On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
On pippins' russet peel;
And, when his juicy salads failed,

Sliced carrot pleased him well.

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