3.  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.

  4.  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?

  5.  Presumptuous maid! with looks intent,
     Again she stretch’d, again she bent,
       Nor knew the gulf between: 
     (Maligant Fate sat by and smiled,)
     The slippery verge her feet beguiled;
       She tumbled headlong in.

  6.  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 or Susan heard: 
       A favourite has no friend!

  7.  From hence, ye beauties! undeceived,
     Know one false step is ne’er retrieved,
       And be with caution bold: 
     Not all that tempts your wandering eyes,
     And heedless hearts, is lawful prize,
       Nor all that glisters gold.

* * * * *

  III—­ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE.

  [Greek:  Anthropos ikanae profasis eis to dustuchein]

  MENANDER.

  1 Ye distant spires! ye antique towers! 
       That crown the watery glade
     Where grateful Science still adores
       Her Henry’s (1) holy shade;
     And ye that from the stately brow
     Of Windsor’s heights the expanse below
       Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
     Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
     Wanders the hoary Thames along
       His silver-winding way: 

  2 Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! 
       Ah, fields beloved in vain! 
     Where once my careless childhood stray’d,
       A stranger yet to pain! 
     I feel the gales that from ye blow
     A momentary bliss bestow,
       As, waving fresh their gladsome wing,
     My weary soul they seem to soothe,
     And, redolent of joy and youth,
       To breathe a second spring.

  3 Say, father Thames! for thou hast seen
       Full many a sprightly race,
     Disporting on thy margent green,
       The paths of pleasure trace,
     Who foremost now delight to cleave
     With pliant arm thy glassy wave? 
       The captive linnet which enthral? 
     What idle progeny succeed
     To chase the rolling circle’s speed,
       Or urge the flying ball?