ON THE SPRING.
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o! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,Fair Venus' train, appear,Disclose the long-expecting flowers,And wake the purple year!The Attic warbler pours her throat, 5Responsive to the cuckoo's note,The untaught harmony of spring;While, whispering pleasure as they fly,Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue skyTheir gather'd fragrance fling. 10 Where'er the oak's thick branches stretchA broader browner shade,Where'er the rude and moss-grown beechO'ercanopies the glade,Beside some water's rushy brink 15With me the Muse shall sit, and think(At ease reclin'd in rustic state)How vain the ardour of the crowd,How low, how little are the proud,How indigent the great! 20 Still is the toiling hand of Care;The panting herds repose:Yet hark, how thro' the peopled airThe busy murmur glows!The insect youth are on the wing, 25Eager to taste the honied spring,And float amid the liquid noon:Some lightly o'er the current skim,Some show their gayly-gilded trimQuick-glancing to the sun. 30 To Contemplation's sober eyeSuch is the race of Man;And they that creep, and they that fly,Shall end where they began.Alike the busy and the gay 35But flutter thro' life's little day,In Fortune's varying colours drest:Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance,Or chill'd by age, their airy danceThey leave, in dust to rest. 40 Methinks I hear in accents lowThe sportive kind reply:Poor moralist! and what art thou?A solitary fly!Thy joys no glittering female meets, 45No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,No painted plumage to display:On hasty wings thy youth is flown;Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone--We frolic while 'tis May. 50 [Illustration] [Illustration] ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT,_Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes_. 'Twas on a lofty vase's side,Where China's gayest art had dyedThe azure flowers that blow;Demurest of the tabby kind,The pensive Selima, reclin'd, 5Gaz'd on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declar'd:The fair round face, the snowy beard,The velvet of her paws,Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, 10Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,She saw; and purr'd applause. Still had she gaz'd; but midst the tideTwo angel forms were seen to glide,The Genii of the stream: 15Their scaly armour's Tyrian hueThrough richest purple to the viewBetray'd a golden gleam. The hapless nymph with wonder saw:A whisker first, and then a claw, 20With many an ardent wish,She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize.What female heart can gold despise?What Cat's averse to fish? Presumptuous maid! with looks intent 25Again she stretch'd, again she bent,Nor knew the gulf between.(Malignant Fate sat by, and smil'd.)The slippery verge her feet beguil'd,She tumbled headlong in. 30 Eight times emerging from the flood,She mew'd to every watery God,Some speedy aid to send.No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd:Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. 35A favourite has no friend! From hence, ye beauties, undeceiv'd,Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd,And be with caution bold.Not all that tempts your wandering eyes 40And heedless hearts is lawful prize,Nor all that glisters gold. [Illustration]
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