She left the cares of life behind, But all unconscious whom it held. Awaken'd by the shock, (cried puss) Merely to prove a nest for me, Then came the maid, and it was clos'd. flow smooth these 'kerchiefs and how sweet! Oh what a delicate retreat! I will resign myself to rest Till Sol declining in the west, Shall call to supper, when no doubt, Susan will come and let me out." The evening came, the sun descended, And Puss remain'd still unattended. The night roll'd tardily away, (With her indeed 'twas never day,) The sprightly morn her course renew'd, The evening gray again ensu'd, And Puss came into mind no more, Than if entomb'd the day before. With hunger pinch'd, and pinch'd for room, She now presag`d approaching doom, Conscious of jeopardy incurr'd! That night, by chance, the poet watching, Heard an inexplicable scratching ; His noble heart went pit-a-pat, And to himself he said-"what's that ?" He drew the curtain at his side, At length a voice which well he knew, Consol'd him, and dispell'd his fears; He 'gan in haste the draw'rs t' explore, For 'tis a truth well known to most, That whatsoever thing is lost, We seek it, ere it come to light, In ev'ry cranny but the right. Forth skipp'd the cat, not now replete MORAL. Beware of too sublime a sense Of your own worth and consequence, YARDLEY OAK. [1791] SURVIVOR Sole, and hardly such, of all, With truth from Heaven, created thing adore, It seems idolatry with some excuse, Of amnesty, the meed of blood divine, Thou wast a bauble once; a cup and ball, Which babes might play with; and the thievish jay, But Fate thy growth decreed; autumnal rains Thy rudiments should sleep the winter through 10 So Fancy dreams. Disprove it, if ye can, Ye reas'ners broad awake, whose busy search Of argument, employ'd too oft amiss, Sifts half the pleasures of short life away! Thou fell'st mature and in the loany clod Didst burst thine egg, as theirs the fabled Twins, And, all the elements thy puny growth Fost'ring propitious, thou becam`st a twig. Who liv'd when thou wast such? Oh, couldst thou speak, As in Dodona once thy kindred trees Oracular, I would not curious, ask The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth By thee I might correct, erroneous oft, Time made thee what thou wast, king of the woods And Time hath made thee what thou art-a cave For owls to roost in. Once thy spreading boughs O'erhung the champaign; and the num'rous flocks That graz'd it, stood beneath that ample cope Uncrowded, yet safe-shelter'd from the storm. No flock frequents thee now. Thou hast outliv'd Thy popularity, and art become (Unless verse rescue thee awhile) a thing Forgotten, as the foliage of thy youth. While thus through all the stages thou hast push'd Of girth enormous, with moss cushion'd root What exhibitions va.1ous hath the worid Witness'd of mutability all That we account most durable below! In all that live, plant, animal, and man, And in conclusion mar them. Nature's threads, The force, that agitates, not unimpair'd ; Thought cannot spend itself, comparing still Of matchless grandeur, and declension thence, Time was, when, settling on thy leaf, a fly Could shake thee to the root-and time has been When tempests could not. At thy firmest age Thou hadst within thy bole solid contents, That might have ribb'd the sides and plank'd the deck |