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قراءة كتاب The Peacock 'At Home' AND The Butterfly's Ball AND The Fancy Fair
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اللغة: English
The Peacock 'At Home' AND The Butterfly's Ball AND The Fancy Fair
الصفحة رقم: 6
light hearts and bright eyes were the charm of the day.
Then the painted balloon in its glory was bright,
And it mounted on high till it sail’d out of sight.
The Juggler, with tricks and illusions came forth,
And the Russians with musical horns from the North,
Transporting enough to make Orpheus mute:
As loud as the trumpet, as soft as the lute,
And the reeds seem’d to burden the air with delight.
Such strains have rung round me in seasons gone by,
When escaped from the cloister I mused with a sigh,
And listed awhile to the balm-shedding breeze,
As it fitfully swept through the sedge and the trees,
And plaintively whisper’d with musical power,
O’er the “soft-flowing Avon,” at evening hour.
And now the fair parties, with Mirth for their guide,
And light-hearted Laughter, a moment divide,
And gaze on the Eagles, the old ruin’d wall,
The Boat-house, the Temple, the Hermitage, all;
Reproved, when their pleasure too freely they quaff,
By that memento mori, the Afric Giraffe.1
Some visit the laughing-bird, called Cockatoo,
Who drops them a courtesy, and cries “How d’ ye do?”
Or Mungo, the negro, who quaintly and sly
Takes his tea, Cayenne pepper, and cold apple-pie.
And bend down to admire their fair forms in the stream;
Some laugh at their fancies, or muse on a flower,
And all are delighted, so happy the hour.
Wouldst thou gaze with emotions far purer than mirth
On one of the fairest creations of earth,
Go at even, and breathe the pure breath of the breeze,
From the seat by the Lake, ’neath those wild Willow-trees.
New pleasures succeeded; the spell was of power
That Variety threw o’er the varying hour,
In losing and finding each other again.
The dancing commenced, and the Fair, beyond praise,
As light as the gossamer, tripp’d through the maze.
What warm salutations! what laughing aloud!
What sounds of enjoyment were heard in the crowd!
But who were the worthies who moved with a grace
And demeanour, as though they belong’d to the place?
Prince Eglantine Eagle, with lightning-like glare,
Threw a glance all around him to see who was there;
As they proudly pass’d by with their bosoms of snow.
Duke Emu, too, gazed on the heart-cheering sight,
And Earl Hildebrand Harpy, so famous in fight;
While the figure that walk’d so erect, I suppose,
Was Sir Peregrine Penguin,—I judge by his nose.
Viscount Stork, as he strutted about, gave a beck
To Earl Vulture, who wears no cravat round his neck;
And the Bishop was there, though he stood rather back,
Array’d in his robes of red, orange, and black,
Sir Archibald Ostrich moved on rather chary,
And lean’d on his cousin the Count Cassowary,
Discoursing of Java, and far distant lands,
And African Deserts, and hot burning sands.
Old warrior Flamingo came limping along,
And with Commodore Cormorant join’d in the throng,
Profoundly debating, with Major Macaw,
The merits of martial and maritime law.
Earl Heron walk’d stately with Caroline Crane,
And Field-marshal Falcon, of valour so vain;
Shook the quaking-grass tuft on his fanciful head.
Lord Peacock, from Asia, came dress’d very fine—
His musical taste ne’er accorded with mine;
And the learn’d Baron Buzzard, who gravely decided,
That game, when once caught, should be fairly divided.
The grenadier, Captain Curassow, was drest
In his helmet, and held up his head with the best;
While Fatima Pheasant, from China, display’d
Her Pekin pelisse of bright silver brocade.
Count Turkey expanded the finery that bound him,
And gabbled high Dutch to the people around him.
His Honour the Hawk loved a lark and a race,
So he hover’d about near the courts of the place.
Colonel Kite spoke of sporting—of young Ducks and Widgeons,
And plann’d a new pent-house for Ring-doves and Pigeons.
At the edge of the water, and hard by the sluice,
Tête-à-tête Doctor Drake sat with old Gammer Goose.
Of a true Day and Martin-like polish of black.
Mother Magpie and Priscilla Parrot, in spite,
Could talk without ceasing from morning to night;
Spread abroad Entre nous and On dits by the score,
All the news they had heard, and a hundred times more.
A multitude muster’d, escaped from the plains,
Of sight-loving lasses and holiday swains:
Will Woodpecker modestly tapp’d at the door;
Poor Robin, the rustic, a countrified clown,
As he blush’d, look’d too simple by half for the town,
There were scores in brown mantles, black, yellow, or green,
From the villages round, and among them were seen,
Luke Linnet, Sam Swallow, Mat