Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/326

 188 THE POEMS OP ANNE �Whom did you chiefly note, Sweetheart, quoth she, �Of all the Strangers you abroad did see? �Who grac'd you most, or did your Fancy take? �The younger Rat than curs'd a noisy Rake, �That barr'd the best Acquaintance he cou'd make ; �And fear'd him so, he trembl'd ev'ry Part; �Nor to describe him, scarce cou'd have the Heart. �High on his Feet (quoth he) himself he bore, �And terribly, in his own Language, swore; 80 �A feather'd Arm came out from either Side, �Which loud he clapp'd, and Combatants defy'd, �And to each Leg a Bayonette was ty'd: �And certainly his Head with Wounds was sore ; �For That, and both his Cheeks a Sanguine Colour wore. �Near Him there lay the Creature I admir'd, �And for a Friend by Sympathy desir'd: �His Make, like Ours, as far as Tail and Feet, �With Coat of Furr in parallel do meet ; �Yet seeming of a more exalted Race, 40 �Tho' humble Meekness beautify 'd his Face: �A purring Sound compos'd his gentle Mind, �Whilst frequent Slumbers did his Eye-lids bind ; �Whose soft, contracted Paw lay calmly still, �As if unus'd to prejudice, or kill. �I paus'd a while, to meditate a Speech, �And now was stepping just within his reach; �When that rude Clown began his hect'ring Cry, �And made me for my Life, and from th' Attempt to fly. �Indeed 'twas Time, the shiv'ring Beldam said, 50 �To scour the Plain, and be of Life afraid. �Thou base, degen'rate Seed of injur'd Rats, �Thou veriest Fool (she cry'd) of all my Brats ; �Would'st thou have shaken Hands with hostile Cats, �And dost not yet thine Own, and Country's Foe, ��� �