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: 5
little Robert, and pacing along,
His merry Companions return’d in a throng.
[p24] THE
FANCY FAIR;
OR,
GRAND GALA
OF THE
ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.
Some years are elapsed, and some worthies are gone,
Since Peacocks and Butterflies mimick’d the ton,
And gave, in a manner becoming their station,
Their fêtes and their balls to their fellow-creation.
Then Roscoe and Dorset, high-talented elves,
Amused other people and solaced themselves,
In describing the revels, the gibes, and the jokes,
Of the creatures of earth, and the feathery folks;
Of their fashion and fancy, the ebbs and the flows,
And the beauty and wit of their belles and their beaux.
But the world has spun round like a peg top since then,
And imparted more knowledge to brutes and to men;
New lights and perceptions old customs explode,
And what is done now, must be done à-la-mode.
Than that Dorset and Roscoe might do for that day,
But that Poets must deck in more dignified rhymes
The wonderful deeds of these wonderful times?
That Augusta may spread her renown and her glory,
Her famed Fancy Fairs must be studded in story,
And ages unborn learn the elegant Games
Of the Gardens that bloom on the south of the Thames.
Old Dryden the bard was at best but a gander,
In singing the Feast of the great Alexander;
For what breast with the fumes of a banquet is fired
Two thousand years after the guests have retired?
Our happier bard takes the season that suits,
At the spur of the moment he puts on his boots,
All hot for Parnassus, and cries in a hurry,
“Prepare me my Pegasus! ‘Saddle white Surrey!’”
It is clear that he feels what his numbers prolong,
That he warms with his subject, and soars in his song.
But whether his lot be unhonour’d and low,
Or the wreath of the Laureat encircles his brow,
Is a secret of state that he keeps to himself.
But come! Zoological wonders require
The strains of his genius, his force and his fire;
He burns with impatience the scene to display:
Hark away, to the Gardens of Taste! Hark away!
The sun, as he rose, was received with a cheer,
From the Herald at Arms, the renown’d Chanticleer,
Who proclaim’d, with a feeling of pride in his breast,
That the Gardens of Surrey were fairest and best.
Then at once the shrill tidings were borne on the air,
That the dawn had arrived of the famed Fancy Fair,
And that all that was lovely, and beauteous, and bright,
Was summon’d to honour that day of delight.
The sunbeam was clear on that lovely retreat;
The breath of the morning was balmy and sweet;
Fair flowrets, that vied with the rainbow, were seen,
And trees in their livery of liveliest green.
The voice of rejoicing, from children of earth,
Was so mingled with cheerfulness, music, and mirth,
Were saluted with pleasure from every part.
A thousand gay faces appear’d in the throng,
And crowds of fair creatures came trooping along.
Till the place, all enliven’d with joy and surprise,
Was lit up with sunbeams and Beauty’s bright eyes.
The groups of all ages were gather’d so well,
That they threw o’er the poet and painter a spell,
And the flashes of fancy, wit, feeling, and fire,
Resistless compell’d them to pause and admire.
Much pains had been taken to add to the grace,
And preserve from disorder the pride of the place;
To keep the fair flowrets from wandering away,
As well as the things that were fairer than they,
For placards were posted near every spot,
You may stand to “admire” me, “but gather me not.”
The Beasts and the Birds were so fresh and so fair,
That they call’d forth the wonder of all who came there,
And the Boa Constrictors so slimy and gay,
That they seem’d to have painted themselves for the day.
Was proud of the verdigris tuft on his head;
For it look’d, as he leap’d in his frolic and joy,
Like the top of the turban of Rammohun Roy.
Dame Tortoise roam’d over the green and beyond,
For she pass’d on her pilgrimage right to the pond.
As she gazed on the Crocodile softly she sigh’d,
Though she thought that his mouth was a little too wide.
The Zebra look’d sprightly, as every one saw,
And the African Sheep and white-footed Nyl Ghau;
And that leaper of leapers, the strange Kangaroo,
That is biped and triped and quadruped too,
Who out-juggles the Juggler, by hill and by dale;
For he makes, when he pleases, a leg of his tail.
With a soft, silky, aspect, demure and profound,
A tabby Cat wander’d the Gardens around,
And purr’d her applause with a quiet delight,
As she gazed half-entranced on the heart-cheering sight.
Among the rare wonders that caught every eye,
Demanding a glance from the gay passer-by,
And the Camel, brought up in that beautiful place.
A dome in the centre, deservedly praised,
Transparent as crystal, was artfully raised,
Where African Lions, and Tigers untamed,
And Sloths and Hyænas, for savageness famed,
And Leopards and Ladies, and Monsters and Men,
Securely might meet in the very same pen.
The crowd still increased on that magical ground,
And thousands and thousands came trooping around.
The haut ton and beau monde paced about debonair,
Tall and short, enbonpoint, slender, sunburnt, and fair,
While Hatred and Anger and Care fled away,
And