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Her conscious tail her joy declar'd;
She saw; and purr'd applause.
Still had she gaz’d; but 'midst the tide .
The Genii of the stream:
Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue
Betray'd a golden gleam.
With many an ardent wish,
What Cat's averse to fish!
Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent
Nor knew the gulf between.
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood
Some speedy aid to send.
A Fay'rite has no friend !
From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd,
And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes
Nor all, that glisters, gold.