| Twas on a lofty vase's side,
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| Where China's gayest art had dyed
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| The azure flowers that blow,
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| Demurest of the tabby kind,
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| The pensive Selima, reclined,
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| Gazed on the lake below.
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| Her conscious tail her joy declared;
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| The fair round face, the snowy beard,
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| The velvet of her paws,
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| Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
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| Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
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| She saw; and purred applause.
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| Still had she gazed; but 'midst the tide
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| Two angel forms were seen to glide,
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| The genii of the stream:
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| Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue
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| Through richest purple to the view
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| Betrayed a golden gleam.
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| The hapless nymph with wonder saw:
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| A whisker first, and then a claw,
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| With many an ardent wish,
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| She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize.
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| What female heart can gold despise?
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| What cat's averse to fish?
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| Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
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| Again she stretched, again she bent,
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| Nor knew the gulf between:
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| (Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled)
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| The slippery verge her feet beguiled,
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| She tumbled headlong in.
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| From hence, ye beauties undeceived,
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| Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved,
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| And be with caution bold.
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| Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes
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| And heedless hearts is lawful prize;
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| Nor all that glisters, gold.
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| Thomas Gray
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