by Thomas Gray

    Twas on a lofty vase's side，

    Where China's gayest art had dyed

    The azure¹ flowers that blow；

    Demurest of the tabby kind，

    The pensive² Selima， reclined，

    Gazed on the lake below.

    Her conscious tail her joy declared；

    The fair round face， the snowy beard，

    The velvet³ of her paws，

    Her coat， that with the tortoise vies，

    Her ears of jet， and emerald eyes，

    She saw； and purred applause.

    Still had she gazed； but 'midst the tide

    Two angel forms were seen to glide⁴，

    The genii of the stream：

    Their scaly⁵ armor's Tyrian hue⁶

    Through richest purple to the view

    Betrayed a golden gleam.

    The hapless nymph with wonder saw：

    A whisker first and then a claw，

    With many an ardent⁷ wish，

    She stretched in vain to reach the prize.

    What female heart can gold despise？

    What cat's averse⁸ to fish？

    Presumptuous⁹ maid！ with looks intent

    Again she stretched， again she bent¹⁰，

    Nor knew the gulf¹¹ between.

    （Malignant¹² Fate sat by and smiled）

    The slippery verge¹³ her feet beguiled¹⁴，

    She tumbled headlong in.

    Eight times emerging from the flood

    She mewed to every watery¹⁵ god，

    Some speedy aid to send.

    No dolphin came， no Nereid stirred；

    Nor cruel Tom， nor Susan heard；

    A favorite has no friend！

    From hence， ye beauties， undeceived，

    Know， one false step is ne'er retrieved¹⁶，

    And be with caution bold.

    Not all that tempts¹⁷ your wandering eyes

    And heedless hearts， is lawful¹⁸ prize；

    Nor all that glisters， gold.

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