Poems of James Clarence Mangan (Many hitherto uncollected): Centenary edition: Edited, with preface and notes by D. J. O'Donoghue: Introduction by John Mitchel |
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THE KING OF THE FRANKS. |
 | Poems of James Clarence Mangan |  |
THE KING OF THE FRANKS.
All night and day lie the gates unbarred,
The King of the Franks gives a dinner and ball;
The henchmen and vassals bask in the yard,
The knights and the nobles dine in the hall.
The lamps shed a light
Indescribably bright
From the arabesque roof to the floor of the palace,
And, to-and-fro wending, go menials, attending
The gobblers and bibbers with platter and chalice.
The King of the Franks gives a dinner and ball;
The henchmen and vassals bask in the yard,
The knights and the nobles dine in the hall.
The lamps shed a light
Indescribably bright
From the arabesque roof to the floor of the palace,
And, to-and-fro wending, go menials, attending
The gobblers and bibbers with platter and chalice.
Gay dancing follows the dinner and wine—
His Majesty's daughter, an awful beauty,
Has waltzed with a Duke from the banks of the Rhine,
And she leans on the arm he proffers in duty.
So courtly is she,
So portly is he,
That they gaze on each other astounded together,
And now the Grand Duke leads the lass to a nook
Where they talk in low tones on the broiling hot weather.
His Majesty's daughter, an awful beauty,
Has waltzed with a Duke from the banks of the Rhine,
And she leans on the arm he proffers in duty.
So courtly is she,
So portly is he,
That they gaze on each other astounded together,
And now the Grand Duke leads the lass to a nook
Where they talk in low tones on the broiling hot weather.
Sir Hildebrand foots it with maid and dame,
Now this, now that, as a partner he takes;
And all who inspect him, charmed, exclaim—
“The darling! Such nice pirouettes as he makes!”
Said the King, “By the powers
But this long Pole of ours
Takes the rag off the bush as the pink of a Ritter!”
But the Nymph of the Nook never deigns him a look
And praise from all others is barren or bitter.
Now this, now that, as a partner he takes;
And all who inspect him, charmed, exclaim—
“The darling! Such nice pirouettes as he makes!”
317
But this long Pole of ours
Takes the rag off the bush as the pink of a Ritter!”
But the Nymph of the Nook never deigns him a look
And praise from all others is barren or bitter.
At last she sails out, and he begs the favour
Of whirling in turn with the fairest of all;
'Tis granted, and he and his dear enslaver
Exhibit their paces and shapes through the hall.
So grand and so soft
Mounts the music aloft
That anon the brain of Sir Hildebrand reels,
And he dares to begin a confession to Minna,
In catalogue form, of the pangs that he feels.
Of whirling in turn with the fairest of all;
'Tis granted, and he and his dear enslaver
Exhibit their paces and shapes through the hall.
So grand and so soft
Mounts the music aloft
That anon the brain of Sir Hildebrand reels,
And he dares to begin a confession to Minna,
In catalogue form, of the pangs that he feels.
But woe is my soul for your triste young lispers
Of love into ears that disdain to listen!
Despite of his glances, his groaning whispers,
His eyes that half tearfully wink and glisten,
And gesture emphatic,
Her looks grow erratic
And turn from her suitor with ill-suppressed loathing
To where the Grand Duke, boxed up in his nook,
Sits plunged in profound meditation on nothing.
Of love into ears that disdain to listen!
Despite of his glances, his groaning whispers,
His eyes that half tearfully wink and glisten,
And gesture emphatic,
Her looks grow erratic
And turn from her suitor with ill-suppressed loathing
To where the Grand Duke, boxed up in his nook,
Sits plunged in profound meditation on nothing.
That one brief glance, full of love for another,
Sped daggers and death to the heart of the Pole;
In vain his philosophy strove to smother
The serpents that jealousy bred in his soul;
As backward he staggered,
With countenance haggard,
And feelings as acid as beer after thunder,
'Twas plain that the dart that had entered his heart
Was rending his physical system asunder.
Sped daggers and death to the heart of the Pole;
In vain his philosophy strove to smother
The serpents that jealousy bred in his soul;
As backward he staggered,
With countenance haggard,
And feelings as acid as beer after thunder,
'Twas plain that the dart that had entered his heart
Was rending his physical system asunder.
| Poems of James Clarence Mangan | |