MATTHEW ARNOLD’S CAT ATOSSA.

THOU hast seen Atossa sage Sit for hours beside thy cage; Thou wouldst chirp, thou foolish bird, Flutter, chirp—she never stirred! What were now these toys to her? Down she sank amid her fur— Eyed thee with a soul resigned— And thou deemedst cats were kind! Cruel, but composed and bland, Dumb, inscrutable, and grand; So Tiberius might have sat, Had Tiberius been a cat.