TO My LORD BUCKHURST, Very Young, Playing with a CAT.

TO My LORD BUCKHURST, Very Young, Playing with a CAT.

The am'rous Youth, whose tender Breast Was by his darling Cat possest, Obtain'd of Venus his Desire, Howe'er irregular his Fire: Nature the Pow'r of Love obey'd: The Cat became a blushing Maid; And, on the happy Change, the Boy Imploy'd his Wonder and his Joy.

Take care, O beauteous Child, take care, Lest Thou prefer so rash a Pray'r: Nor vainly hope, the Queen of Love Will e'er thy Fav'rite's Charms improve. O! quickly from her Shrine retreat; Or tremble for thy Darling's Fate.

The Queen of Love, who soon will see Her own Adonis live in Thee, Will lightly her first Loss deplore; Will easily forgive the Boar: Her Eyes with Tears no more will flow: With jealous Rage her Breast will glow: And on her tabby Rival's Face She deep will mark her new Disgrace.