YE nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red With tears o'er hapless fav'rites shed, Where Rhenus strays his vines among, Or only with a whistle blest, The honours of his ebon poll Above, below, in all the house, No cat had leave to dwell; And Bully's cage supported stood, On props of smoothest-shaven wood Large-built and lattic'd well Well-lattic'd-but the grate, alas! Night veil'd the pole. All seem'd secure He, ent'ring at the study-door, And something in the wind Just then, by adverse fate impress'd, A rat, fast-clinging to his cage, For, aided both by ear and scent, Minute the horrors that ensued; He left poor Bully's beak. He left it but he should have ta'en Maria weeps-The Muses mourn- COWPER THE END. |