Classic Poem

Thou sweetest creature of thy kind,
Complacent, gentle, and refin'd!
How wou'd thy brethren of the wood,
Amaz'd and motionless have stood,
To see thee unconcern'd and free,
As when they hop from tree to tree!
With envy too they might have pin'd,
And ev'n sweet Liberty resign'd;
A Squirrel might have wish'd thy chain,
So soft a slav'ry to obtain:
Where no caprice or humour dwells,
A favourite's happiness excells.
What H ARRIET priz'd was surely blest,
For gentle kindness warm'd her breast;
And sure that little life was dear,
Which now she honours with a tear! —
Oh tender Scug! alas, no more
Thy beauties shall be counted o'er;
Thy dext'rous claws no more shall peal
The tempting filbert for thy meal.
Thy comic airs, thy matchless grace,
Thy sprightly turns — thy rapid pace,
No more our wonder shall excite,
And yield us innocent delight. —
The worst of all the insect crew,
The vilest wasp that ever flew,
Perform'd its base malicious part,
And sent its venom to thy heart,
A heart, too harmless and content,
To know what subtle mischief meant:
A heart — oh Muse! which claims thy care,
For Gratitude dwelt even there.

While tyrants unlamented rot,
And mighty fav'rites are forgot,
That precious spark thy name shall save,
And Scug be honour'd in his Grave.