THOMAS GRAY

��On a Favourite Cat, 'Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes

'"FWAS 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 'midst the tide Two angel forms were seen to glide,

The Genii of the stream : Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue Thro' 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?

�� �