VERSES ON A CAT

I

A CAT in distress,

Nothing more, nor less;

Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye,
As I am a sinner,

It waits for some dinner
To stuff out its own little belly.

II

You would not easily guess
All the modes of distress
Which torture the tenants of earth;

And the various evils,

Which like so many devils,
Attend the poor souls from their birth.

III

Some a living require,

And others desire

An old fellow out of the way;
And which is the best

I leave to be guessed,
For I cannot pretend to say.

IV

One wants society,

Another variety,

Verses on a Cat. Published by Hogg, Life of Shelley, 1858, and

dated 1800.

Others a tranquil life;
Some want food,

Others, as good,

Only want a wife.

But this poor little cat
Only wanted a rat,

To stuff out its own little maw;
And it were as good

Some people had such food,
To make them hold their jaw!

OMENS

HARK! the owlet flaps his wings.
In the pathless dell beneath;
Hark! 'tis the night-raven sings
Tidings of approaching death.

EPITAPHIUM

LATIN VERSION OF THE EPITAPH IN GRAY'S ELEGY

I

HIC sinu fessum caput hospitali
Cespitis dormit juvenis; nec illi
Fata ridebant, popularis ille

Nescius auræ.

Omens. Published by Medwin, Shelley Papers, 1833, dated 1807. Epitaphium. Published by Medwin, Life of Shelley, 1847, dated 1808-9.

II

Musa non vultu genus arroganti
Rusticâ natum grege despicata ;
Et suum tristis puerum notavit
Sollicitudo.

III

Indoles illi bene larga; pectus
Veritas sedem sibi vindicavit ;
Et pari tantis meritis beavit
Munere cœlum.

IV

Omne quod mœstis habuit miserto Corde largivit, lacrymam; recepit Omne quod cœlo voluit, fidelis Pectus amici.

V

Longius sed tu fuge curiosus Cæteras laudes fuge suspicari ; Cæteras culpas fuge velle tractas Sede tremendâ.

VI

Spe tremescentes recubant in illâ Sede virtutes pariterque culpæ, In sui Patris gremio, tremendâ Sede Deique.

IN HOROLOGIUM

INTER marmoreas Leonora pendula colles
Fortunata nimis Machina dicit horas.

Quas manibus premit illa duas insensa papillas
Cur mihi sit digito tangere, amata, nefas?

A DIALOGUE

DEATH

FOR my dagger is bathed in the blood of the brave,
I come, careworn tenant of life, from the grave,
Where Innocence sleeps 'neath the peace-giving sod,
And the good cease to tremble at Tyranny's nod ;
I offer a calm habitation to thee,

Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me?
My mansion is damp, cold silence is there,
But it lulls in oblivion the fiends of despair;
Not a groan of regret, not a sigh, not a breath,
Dares dispute with grim Silence the empire of
Death.

I offer a calm habitation to thee,

Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me?

MORTAL

Mine eyelids are heavy; my soul seeks repose;
It longs in thy cells to embosom its woes;

In Horologium. Published by Medwin, Life of Shelley, 1847, dated 1809.

A Dialogue, Esdaile MS. || Death: a Dialogue, Rossetti. Published, without title, by Hogg, Life of Shelley, 1858, dated 1809.

It longs in thy cells to deposit its load,
Where no longer the scorpions of Perfidy goad,
Where the phantoms of Prejudice vanish away,
And Bigotry's bloodhounds lose scent of their prey.
Yet tell me, dark Death, when thine empire is o'er,
What awaits on Futurity's mist-covered shore?

DEATH

Cease, cease, wayward Mortal! I dare not unveil The shadows that float o'er Eternity's vale;

Nought waits for the good but a spirit of Love That will hail their blessed advent to regions above. For Love, Mortal, gleams through the gloom of my sway,

And the shades which surround me fly fast at its ray. Hast thou loved? Then depart from these regions of hate,

And in slumber with me blunt the arrows of fate. I offer a calm habitation to thee,

Say, victim of grief, wilt thou slumber with me?

MORTAL

Oh! sweet is thy slumber! oh! sweet is the ray
Which after thy night introduces the day;
How concealed, how persuasive, self-interest's
breath,

Though it floats to mine ear from the bosom of
Death!

I hoped that I quite was forgotten by all,

Yet a lingering friend might be grieved at my fall,
And duty forbids, though I languish to die,
When departure might heave Virtue's breast with
a sigh.

22 o'er, Esdaile MS. || on, Hogg, 1858.