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Cats also feel, as well as we,
That passion's force, and so did she.
Her climbing she began to find,
Expos'd her too much to the wind,
And the old utensil of tin
Was cold and comfortless within:
She therefore wish'd instead of those
Some place of more serene repose,
Where neither cold might come, nor air
Too rudely wanton with her hair,
And sought it, in the likeliest mode,
Within her master's snug abode.

A draw'r, it chanc'd, at bottom lin'd
With linen of the softest kind,
With such as merchants introduce
From India, for the ladies' use,
A draw'r impending o'er the rest,
Half open in the topmost chest,
Of depth enough, and none to spare,
Invited her to slumber there.
Puss, with delight beyond expression,
Survey'd the scene, and took possession.
Recumbent at her ease ere long,
And lull'd by her own humdrum song,

She left the cares of life behind,
And slept as she would sleep her last,

When in came, housewifely inclin'd,
The chambermaid and shut it fast,
By no malignity impell’d,
But all unconscious whom it held..

Awaken'd by the shock, cried Puss, • Was ever Cat attended thus ! • The open draw'r was left, I see, • Merely to prove a nest for me, • For soon as I was well compos’d, • Then came the maid, and it was clos'd. • How 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 grey 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, Nor slept a single wink, nor purr'd, 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, And forth he peep'd but nothing spied;

Yet, by his ear directed; guess'd
Something imprison'd in the chest,
And doubtful what, with prudent care
Resolv'd it should continue there.
At length, a voice which well he knew,
A long and melancholy mew,
Saluting his poetic ears,
Consold him, and dispell’d his fears ;
He left his bed, he trod the floor,
He 'gan in haste the draw’rs explore,
The lowest first, and without stop
The rest in order to the top.
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
As erst with airy self-conceit,
Nor in her own fond apprehension
A theme for all the world's attention,
But modest, sober, cur'd of all
Her notions hyperbolical, .
And wishing for a place of rest
Any thing rather than a chest.
Then stepp'd the Poet into bed
With this reflection in his head :

Beware of too sublime a sense Of your own worth and consequencé. The man who dreams himself so great, And his importance of such weight,

That all around, in all that's done,
Must move and act for him alone,
Will learn in schọol of tribulation
The folly of his expectation.

FABLE XLVII.

THE CHAFFINCHES.

By Cowper.

In Scotland's realm, where trees are few;

Nor even shrubs abound;
But where, however bleak the view,

Some better things are found ;

For Husband there and Wife may boast

Their union undefild,
And false ones are as rare almost

As hedge-rows in the wild ;

In Scotland's realm forlorn and bare

The hist’ry chanc'd of late
This histry of a wedded pair,

A Chaffinch and his mate.

The spring drew near, each felt a breast

With genial instinct fillid; They pair’d, and would have built a nest,

But found not where to build.

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The heaths uncover'd and the moors

Except with snow and sleet;
Sea-beaten rocks and naked shores

Could yield them no retreat.

Long time a breeding-place they sought,

But both grew vex'd and tir'd ; At length a ship arriving brought

The good so long desir’d.

A ship !--could such a restless thing

Afford them place of rest?
Or was the merchant charg'd to bring

The homeless birds a nest ?

Hush-silent hearers profit most "

This racer of the sea
Prov'd kinder to them than the coast,

It serv'd them with a tree.

But such a tree ! 'twas shaven deal,

The tree they call a mast, And had a hollow with a wheel

Thro' which the tackle pass'd.

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