On the Death of a Favorite Cat 1751 For I so truly thee bemoan That I shall weep though I be stone, 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, Her conscious tail her joy declared; Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide The Genii of the stream: Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue The hapless Nymph with wonder saw: With many an ardent wish, She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize. What Cat's averse to fish? Presumptous Maid! with looks intent Eight times emerging from the flood No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred: A Favorite has no friend! From hence, ye Beauties, undeceived, Not all that tempts your wandering eyes Nor all that glisters, gold. To a Cat Dogs may fawn on all and some You, a friend of loftier mind, Morning round this silent sweet Sheds its wealth of gathering light, Lawn and garden there beneath. Fair and dim they gleamed below: Deep as even your sun-bright eyes, Now that you give thanks to see? May you not rejoice as I, Change to heaven revealed, and bid All night long from stars and moon, What within you wakes with day, All too little may we tell, Friends who like each other well, What might haply, if we might, II Wild on woodland ways your sires Fair as flame and fierce and fleet, As with wings on wingless feet 1753 Shone and sprang your mother, free, Free and proud and glad as they, Rests or roams their radiant child, Love through dreams of souls divine Round a dawn whose light and song Dreams were theirs; yet haply may When such friends and fellows born, 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, Thou seek'st thy professorial chair, And so demure thy face is! And as thou sit'st, thine eye seems fraught That could we read it, knowledge 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, Oh then, throughout the livelong day, 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, 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, Thistles, or lettuces instead, With sand to scour his maw. On twigs of hawthorn he regaled, Sliced carrot pleased him well. |