Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years, slide soft away In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day, Sound sleep by night; study and ease Together mixt, sweet recreation, And innocence, which most does please With meditation. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie. _A. Pope_ CLV _THE BLIND BOY_ O say what is that thing call'd Light, Which I must ne'er enjoy; What are the blessings of the sight, O tell your poor blind boy! You talk of wondrous things you see, You say the sun shines bright; I feel him warm, but how can he Or make it day or night? My day or night myself I make Whene'er I sleep or play; And could I ever keep awake With me 'twere always day. With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe; But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne'er can know. Then let not what I cannot have My cheer of mind destroy: Whilst thus I sing, I am a king, Although a poor blind boy. _C. Cibber_ CLVI _ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES_ 'Twas on a lofty vase's side, Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers that blow, Demurest of the tabby kind The pensive Selima, reclined, Gazed on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declared: The fair round face, the snowy beard, The velvet of her paws, Her coat that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes-- She saw, and purr'd applause. Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide Two angel forms were seen to glide, The Genii of the stream: Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue Through richest purple, to the view Betray'd a golden gleam. The hapless Nymph with wonder saw: A whisker first, and then a claw With many an ardent wish She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize-- What female heart can gold despise? What Cat's averse to fish? Presumptuous maid! with looks intent Again she stretch'd, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf between-- Malignant Fate sat by and smiled-- The slippery verge her feet beguiled; She tumbled headlong in! Eight times emerging from the flood She mew'd to every watery God Some speedy aid to send:-- No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd, Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard-- A favourite has no friend!