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Poison themselves, and all that they have made !
THE FOUR AGES.
BRIEF FRAGMENT OF AN EXTENSIVE PROJECTED POEM.
COULD be well content, allow'd the use
Of past experience, and the wisdom glean'd
Thus, while grey ev'ning lull’d the wind, and call'd
Of talents, judgments, mercies, better far
I heard, and acquiesced : then to and fro
Knows he his origin ! can he ascend
It is an evil incident to man,
THE JUDGMENT OF THE POETS.
*WO nymphs, both nearly of an age,
Of numerous charms possessid,
Whose temper was the best.
The worth of each had been complete,
Had both alike been mild :
Frown'd oft'ner 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,
And never proved severe.
To poets of renown in song
The nymphs referr'd the cause, Who, strange to tell, all judged 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.
No judges, sure, were e'er so mad,
Or so resolved to err-
They lavish'd all on her.
Then thus the God whom fondly they
Their great Inspirer call,
To reprimand them all.
“Since thus ye have combined,” he said,
My fav’rite nymph to slight, Adorning May, that peevish maid,
With June's undoubted right,
"The minx shall, for your folly's sake,
Still prove herself a shrow, Shall make your scribbling fingers ache,
And pinch your noses blue.'
THE RETIRED CAT.
As poet well could wish to have, Was much addicted to inquire For nooks to which she might retire, And where, secure as mouse in chink, She might repose, or sit and think. I know not where she caught the trick, Nature perhaps herself had cast her In such a mould PHILOSOPHIQUE, Or else she learn'd it of her master. Sometimes ascending, debonnair, An apple-tree, or lofty pear, Lodg'd with convenience in the fork, She watch'd the gard'ner at his work ; Sometimes her ease and solace sought In an old empty wat'ring 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, Expos'd her too much to the wind, And the old utensil of tin Was cold and comfortless within : She therefore wish'd instead of those Some place of more serene repose, Where neither cold might come, nor air Too rudely wanton with her hair, And sought it in the likeliest mode Within her master's snug abode.
A draw'r, it chanc'd, at bottom lined With linen of the softest kind, With such as merchants introduce From India, for the ladies' use, A draw'r impending o'er the rest, Half open in the topmost chest, Of depth enough, and none to spare, Invited her to slumber there; Puss, with delight beyond expression, Surveyed the scene and took possession. Recumbent at her ease ere long, And lull’d by her own humdrum song, She left the cares of life behind, And slept as she would sleep her last; When in came, housewifely inclined, The chambermaid, and shut it fast, By no malignity impellid, But all unconscious whom it held.
Awaken'd by the shock, (cried puss) " Was ever cat attended thus !