In the war of the Apes and the Cats, and attired
In breeches and boots, worth many a bright dollar,
And a little girl’s cuff round his neck for a collar,
In cape, cap and feather, and girt with a sword,
(The feather he’d pluck’d from a parrot whose word
Of defiance had vexed him), used both whip and spur,
And found Zapaquilda still taking the air,—
Who on seeing him, modest as nun ‘neath a veil,
Lick’d one paw, droop’d her eyelids and let down her tail,
For of virtuous maidens, ’tis ever the duty