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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 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 purr'd applause.

Still had she gazed; but ʼmidst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,

The Genii of the stream:
Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view

Betray'd a golden gleam.

The hapless nymph with wonder saw;
A whisker first, and then a claw,

With 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 Again she stretch'd, 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 mew'd to every watery God,

Some speedy aid to send.
No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd:
Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard.

A favourite 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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DRAWN BY RICHARD WESTALL, R.A. ENGRAVED BY W. FINDEN: PUBLISHED BY JOHN SHARPE,LONDON

SEPT. 29,1826.

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ON A DISTANT

PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE.

"Ανθρωπος, έκανή πρόφασις εις το δυστυχείν.

MENANDER.

Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the

atery glade, Where grateful Science still adores

Her Henry's' holy shade; And

ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights the expanse below

Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along

His silver-winding way:

Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!

Ah, fields beloved in vain!
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,

A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow,

King Henry the Sixth, founder of the College.

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