Then black gnomes scattering sixpences like rain;
Then pages three and three; and next, slave-held
The Imaian ’scutcheon bright,—one mouse in argent field.
LXVI
Gentlemen pensioners next; and after them,
A troop of winged Janizaries flew;
Then slaves, as presents bearing many a gem;
Then twelve physicians fluttering two and two;
And next a chaplain in a cassock new;
Then Lords in waiting; then (what head not reels
For pleasure?)—the fair Princess in full view,
Borne upon wings,—and very pleased she feels
To have such splendour dance attendance at her heels.
LXVII
For there was more magnificence behind:
She waved her handkerchief. “Ah, very grand!”
Cried Elfinan, and closed the window-blind;
“And, Hum, we must not shilly-shally stand,—
Adieu! adieu! I’m off for Angle-land!
I say, old Hocus, have you such a thing
About you,—feel your pockets, I command,—
I want, this instant, an invisible ring,—
Thank you, old mummy!—now securely I take wing.”
LXVIII
Then Elfinan swift vaulted from the floor,
And lighted graceful on the window-sill;
Under one arm the magic book he bore,
The other he could wave about at will;
Pale was his face, he still look’d very ill:
He bow’d at Bellanaine, and said—“Poor Bell!
Farewell! farewell! and if for ever! still
For ever fare thee well!”—and then he fell
A laughing!—snapp’d his fingers!—shame it is to tell!
LXIX
“By ’r Lady! he is gone!” cries Hum, “and I,—
(I own it),—have made too free with his wine;
Old Crafticant will smoke me. By the by!
This room is full of jewels as a mine,—
Dear valuable creatures, how ye shine!
Sometime to-day I must contrive a minute,
If Mercury propitiously incline,
To examine his scrutoire, and see what’s in it,
For of superfluous diamonds I as well may thin it.
LXX
“The Emperor’s horrid bad; yes, that’s my cue!”
Some histories say that this was Hum’s last speech;
That, being fuddled, he went reeling through
The corridor, and scarce upright could reach
The stair-head; that being glutted as a leech,
And used, as we ourselves have just now said,
To manage stairs reversely, like a peach
Too ripe, he fell, being puzzled in his head
With liquor and the staircase: verdict—found stone dead.
LXXI
This, as a falsehood, Crafticanto treats;
And as his style is of strange elegance,
Gentle and tender, full of soft conceits,
(Much like our Boswell’s,) we will take a glance
At his sweet prose, and, if we can, make dance
His woven periods into careless rhyme;
O, little faery Pegasus! rear—prance—
Trot round the quarto—ordinary time!
March, little Pegasus, with pawing hoof sublime!
LXXII
“Well, let us see—tenth book and chapter nine,”—
Thus Crafticant pursues his diary:—
“ ’Twas twelve o’clock at night, the weather fine,
Latitude thirty-six; our scouts descry
A flight of starlings making rapidly
Towards Thibet. Mem.:—birds fly in the night;
From twelve to half-past—wings not fit to fly
For a thick fog—the Princess sulky quite:
Call’d for an extra shawl, and gave her nurse a bite.
LXXIII
“Five minutes before one—brought down a moth
With my new double-barrel—stew’d the thighs,
And made a very tolerable broth—
Princess turn’d dainty, to our great surprise,
Alter’d her mind, and thought it very nice:
Seeing her pleasant, tried her with a pun,
She frown’d; a monstrous owl across us flies
About this time,—a sad old figure of fun;
Bad omen—this new match can’t be a happy one.
LXXIV
“From two to half-past, dusky way we made,
Above the plains of Gobi,—desert, bleak;
Beheld afar off, in the hooded shade
Of darkness, a great mountain (strange to speak),
Spitting, from forth its sulphur-baken peak,
A fan-shaped burst of blood-red, arrowy fire,
Turban’d with smoke, which still away did reek,
Solid and black from that eternal pyre,
Upon the laden winds that scantly could respire.
LXXV
“Just upon three o’clock, a falling star
Created an alarm among our troop,
Kill’d a man-cook, a page, and broke a jar,
A tureen, and three dishes, at one swoop,
Then passing by the Princess, singed her hoop:
Could not conceive what Coralline was at,
She clapp’d her hands three times, and cried out ‘Whoop!’
Some strange Imaian custom. A large bat
Came sudden ’fore my face, and brush’d against my hat.
LXXVI
“Five minutes thirteen seconds after three,
Far in the west a mighty fire broke out,
Conjectured, on the instant, it might be
The city of Balk—’twas Balk beyond all doubt:
A griffin, wheeling here and there about,
Kept reconnoitering us—doubled our guard—
Lighted our torches, and kept up a shout,
Till he sheer’d off—the Princess very scared—
And many on their marrow-bones for death prepared.
LXXVII
“At half-past three arose the cheerful moon—
Bivouack’d for four minutes on a cloud—
Where from the earth we heard a lively tune
Of tambourines and pipes, severe and loud,
While on a flowery lawn a brilliant crowd
Cinque-parted danced, some half asleep reposed
Beneath the green-faned cedars, some did shroud
In silken tents, and ’mid light fragrance dozed,
Or on the open turf their soothed eyelids closed.
LXXVIII
“Dropp’d my gold watch, and kill’d a kettledrum—
It went for apoplexy—foolish folks!—
Left it to pay the piper—a good sum—
(I’ve got a conscience, maugre people’s jokes,)
To scrape a little favour; ’gan to coax
Her Highness’ pug-dog—got a sharp rebuff—
She wish’d a game at whist—made three revokes—
Turn’d from myself, her partner, in a huff;
His Majesty will know her temper time enough.
LXXIX
“She cried for chess—I play’d a game with her—
Castled her king with such a vixen look,
It bodes ill to his Majesty—(refer
To the second chapter of my fortieth book,
And see what hoity-toity airs she took).
At half-past four the morn essay’d to beam—
Saluted, as we pass’d, an early rook,—
The Princess fell asleep, and, in her dream,
Talk’d of one Master Hubert, deep in her esteem.
LXXX
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