She left the cares of life behind, But all unconscious whom it held. "Was ever cat attended thus? For foon as I was well compofed, Then came the maid, and it was closed. How smooth these 'kerchiefs, and how fweet! Oh what a delicate retreat! I will refign myself to rest Till Sol, declining in the west, Shall call to fupper, when, no doubt, Sufan will come and let me out." The evening came, the fun defcended, And Pufs remain'd ftill unattended. The night roll'd tardily away, (With her indeed 'twas never day); The evening gray again enfued, And pufs came into mind no more Than if entomb'd the day before. With hunger pinch'd, and pinch'd for room, She now prefaged approaching doom, Confcious of jeopardy incurr'd. That night, by chance, the poet watching, Heard an inexplicable scratching; And to himself he faid-" What's that?" He drew the curtain at his fide, And forth he peep'd, but nothing spied. Confoled him and difpell'd his fears: For 'tis a truth well known to moft, We seek it, ere it come to light, In every cranny but the right. Forth skipp'd the cat, not now replete Moral. Beware of too fublime a sense Of your own worth and confequence : 1791. THE JUDGEMENT OF THE POETS. WO nymphs, both nearly of an age, A warm difpute once chanced to wage, The worth of each had been complete But one, although her smile was sweet, And in her humour, when fhe frown'd, The other was of gentler cast, Her frowns were feldom known to laft, To poets of renown in fong The nymphs referr'd the cause, Who, strange to tell, all judged it wrong, They gentle call'd, and kind and soft, And though the changed her mood fo oft, No judges, fure, were e'er fo mad, Or fo refolved to err In short, the charms her fifter had Then thus the God whom fondly they Was heard, one genial fummer's day, "Since thus ye have combined," he said, My favourite nymph to flight, Adorning May, that peevish maid, With June's undoubted right, "The Minx shall, for your folly's fake, Still prove herself a fhrew, Shall make your fcribbling fingers ache, And pinch your noses blue." May, 1791. YARDLEY OAK. URVIVOR fole, and hardly fuch, of all (Since which I number threefcore winters paft), When our forefather Druids in their oaks Of amnesty, the meed of blood divine, Thou waft a bauble once, a cup and ball Which babes might play with; and the thievish jay, Seeking her food, with ease might have purloin'd |