For long ere now it should have been rehearsed,
"Twas in the garden that I found him first.
Even there I found him—there the full-grown cat,
His head, with velvet paw, did gently pat;
As curious as the kittens each had been
To learn what this phenomenon might mean.
Fill'd with heroic ardour at the sight,
And fearing every moment he would bite,
And rob our household of our only cat
That was of age to combat with a rat,
With outstretch'd hoe I slew him at the door,
And taught him never to come thither more.
W. Cowper

CLII

THE PRIEST AND THE MULBERRYTREE

Did you hear of the curate who mounted his mare, And merrily trotted along to the fair?

Of creature more tractable none ever heard,

In the height of her speed she would stop at a word;

But again with a word, when the curate said, Hey, She put forth her mettle and gallop'd away.

As near to the gates of the city he rode,
While the sun of September all brilliantly glow'd,
The good priest discover'd, with eyes of desire,
A mulberry-tree in a hedge of wild briar;
On boughs long and lofty, in many a green shoot,
Hung large, black, and glossy, the beautiful fruit.

The curate was hungry and thirsty to boot;

He shrunk from the thorns, though he long'd for

the fruit ;

With a word he arrested his courser's keen speed, And he stood up erect on the back of his steed; On the saddle he stood while the creature stood still, And he gather'd the fruit till he took his good fill.

Sure never,' he thought, 'was a creature so rare, So docile, so true, as my excellent mare; Lo, here now I stand,' and he gazed all around, 6 As safe and as steady as if on the ground; Yet how had it been, if some traveller this way, Had, dreaming no mischief, but chanced to cry, Hey?'

He stood with his head in the mulberry-tree,

And he spoke out aloud in his fond reverie ;

At the sound of the word the good mare made a push,

And down went the priest in the wild-briar bush.
He remember'd too late, on his thorny green bed,
Much that well may be thought cannot wisely be
said.
T. L. Peacock

CLIII

THE PRIDE OF YOUTH

Proud Maisie is in the wood,

Walking so early;

Sweet Robin sits on the bush
Singing so rarely.

X

'Tell me, thou bonny bird, When shall I marry me?' 'When six braw gentlemen Kirkward shall carry ye.

'Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly?'

'The grey-headed sexton

That delves the grave duly.

'The glow-worm o'er grave and stone

Shall light thee steady;

The owl from the steeple sing

Welcome, proud lady.'

Sir W. Scott

CLIV

SIR LANCELOT DU LAKE

When Arthur first in court began,
And was approved king,
By force of arms great victories wan
And conquest home did bring,

Then into England straight he came
With fifty good and able
Knights, that resorted unto him,

And were of his round table:

And he had jousts and tournaments,
Whereto were many prest,
Wherein some knights did far excel

And eke surmount the rest.