 | Puss in boots, and the Marquis of Carabas |  |
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PLATE XI.
The sunset o'er the palace shone,
On glowing glass and fretted stone;
The lofty gateway swiftly passed,
The prancing horses paused at last.
But see! within their fiery eyes
What wild, unearthly fears arise?
Why start they thus with nostrils wide?
What spectre have the steeds espied?
From out the gleaming casement, lo!
A troop of startled demons go,
Who'd met at the magician's call,
To revel in his banquet hall!
On glowing glass and fretted stone;
The lofty gateway swiftly passed,
The prancing horses paused at last.
But see! within their fiery eyes
What wild, unearthly fears arise?
Why start they thus with nostrils wide?
What spectre have the steeds espied?
From out the gleaming casement, lo!
A troop of startled demons go,
Who'd met at the magician's call,
To revel in his banquet hall!
The king, whose heavy mould of clay
Had somewhat dimmed the mental ray,
Struck by the princely pomp and pride
Around, was blind to all beside.
The cat comes forth to meet the train:
“And will you, sire, thus kindly deign
To rest within our castle gates?
My lord, the marquis—supper waits!”
He gives his paw with easy grace,
And leads the princess to her place,
While William droops, abashed and shy,
And chides him with his speaking eye.
Had somewhat dimmed the mental ray,
Struck by the princely pomp and pride
Around, was blind to all beside.
The cat comes forth to meet the train:
“And will you, sire, thus kindly deign
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My lord, the marquis—supper waits!”
He gives his paw with easy grace,
And leads the princess to her place,
While William droops, abashed and shy,
And chides him with his speaking eye.
'Tis laden well, the banquet board,
The sparkling wine is freely poured;
Will quaffs a bumper, leaves his seat,
And throws him at the monarch's feet!
His cap is doffed—his rich brown hair
Curls round a brow of beauty rare;
His dark eyes droop, his face is pale,
Whilst to the king he tells his tale—
The sparkling wine is freely poured;
Will quaffs a bumper, leaves his seat,
And throws him at the monarch's feet!
His cap is doffed—his rich brown hair
Curls round a brow of beauty rare;
His dark eyes droop, his face is pale,
Whilst to the king he tells his tale—
'Tis told, and ere the monarch's voice
Could bid him tremble or rejoice,
The maiden kneels beside him there,
And to his story adds her prayer;
In vain the king would steel his heart,
While thus she pleads with childish art:
“Ah no! my father, scorn him not!
Think of his sad, his lonely lot!
Remember, too, that this good youth
Hath told you but the simple truth;
Look on his young and guileless brow,
And if you spurn him hear me vow:
Where'er he goes his fate I share,
Through danger, suffering, guilt, despair!”
Moved by her words the king relents,
Forgives poor William, and consents.
Could bid him tremble or rejoice,
The maiden kneels beside him there,
And to his story adds her prayer;
In vain the king would steel his heart,
While thus she pleads with childish art:
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Think of his sad, his lonely lot!
Remember, too, that this good youth
Hath told you but the simple truth;
Look on his young and guileless brow,
And if you spurn him hear me vow:
Where'er he goes his fate I share,
Through danger, suffering, guilt, despair!”
Moved by her words the king relents,
Forgives poor William, and consents.
| Puss in boots, and the Marquis of Carabas | |