Grimalkin's Ghost; Or, The Water Spirits Poem by Charlotte Dacre

In humble imitation of the soaring flights of some
legendary and exquisitely pathetic modern Bards.
JONAS lay on his bed, so my tale does relate,
And queer were the visions that roam'd in his pate,
When the clock on the staircase told one;
The door it flew wide, and a light fill'd the room;
Oh! mercy, what now is my horrible doom?
Thought Jonas--for speech he had none.

He look'd thro' his fingers; and, strange to declare,
He saw such a sight as his senses did scare--
A Cat, with five kits in her train!
'Ah! monster!' she cried, 'twixt a scream and a mew,
'You thought you had drown'd us, but woe unto you,
Our spirits have risen again.

' We shall haunt you by day, we shall haunt you by night,
Behind and before, at your left and your right,
No comfort shall ever you know;
What harm had we done you? base monster, declare,
Tho' each had nine lives, you not any would spare,
But doom'd us to perish, oh! oh!

'Now vengeance is ours, lo! we wreak it on you;'
The five little kittens cried 'Mew! mew! mew!'
And jump'd on poor Jonas's bed;
They rear'd on their hind legs, they danc'd on his breast,
With their cold, tender paws on his windpipe they press'd,
And play'd at bo-peep round his head.

Of a sudden they ceas'd, he just ventur'd to peep,
But better for him had he still seem'd asleep,
For horrid the sight he beheld;
The angry mamma like a leopard was grown,
Her large sea-green eyes fiercely gleam'd on his own,
And her tail was enormously swell'd.

'Oh! monster,' she scream'd, with a cattish despair,
'I am doom'd after death in your torments to share,
Or vengeance the fates will deny;
Round the brink of a well, such the sentence decreed,
After five spectre kittens you swiftly proceed,
Whilst I spit at your heels as you fly.'