 | Puss in boots, and the Marquis of Carabas |  |
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PLATE VIII.
So puss ran before, till he came to a wood,
Where hundreds of wondering woodcutters stood;
“To whom does this forest belong?” said the cat.—
“To the awful magician.”—“No matter for that;
Now mark! if his majesty, when he comes by,
Should ask, you must say, or ere sunrise you die,
To the Marquis of Carabas.”—“Yes,” said the men,
And away galloped puss, with a chuckle again.
Where hundreds of wondering woodcutters stood;
“To whom does this forest belong?” said the cat.—
“To the awful magician.”—“No matter for that;
Now mark! if his majesty, when he comes by,
Should ask, you must say, or ere sunrise you die,
To the Marquis of Carabas.”—“Yes,” said the men,
And away galloped puss, with a chuckle again.
Then he came to a wheat-field; the reapers amazed,
Like the woodmen stood trembling, and sheepishly gazed
On the small hairy man of such marvellous size,
With his tail and his claws, and his boots and his eyes.
“'Tis he, the magician himself!” whispered they;
For they knew that he took a new shape every day.
“To whom does this wheat-field belong?” said the cat.—
“To the fearful magician.”—“Ah, ha! say you that?
If you have no particular fancy to be,
This moment, cut up into mince meat for me,
Be sure, when the king comes this way, to explain,
That this is the Marquis of Carabas' grain.”
Like the woodmen stood trembling, and sheepishly gazed
On the small hairy man of such marvellous size,
With his tail and his claws, and his boots and his eyes.
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For they knew that he took a new shape every day.
“To whom does this wheat-field belong?” said the cat.—
“To the fearful magician.”—“Ah, ha! say you that?
If you have no particular fancy to be,
This moment, cut up into mince meat for me,
Be sure, when the king comes this way, to explain,
That this is the Marquis of Carabas' grain.”
They took off their hats, and they vowed to obey,
And the frightened child wondering, paused from its play;
And the maiden peeped out from the golden-hued sheaves,
With her timid, dark eyes, like a bird through the leaves;
While William, who heard, “sotto voce,” exclaimed,
Half laughing, half angry, both proud and ashamed:
“So faithful in friendship, so quick at a ruse,
There never was servant like my little puss!”
And the frightened child wondering, paused from its play;
And the maiden peeped out from the golden-hued sheaves,
With her timid, dark eyes, like a bird through the leaves;
While William, who heard, “sotto voce,” exclaimed,
Half laughing, half angry, both proud and ashamed:
“So faithful in friendship, so quick at a ruse,
There never was servant like my little puss!”
| Puss in boots, and the Marquis of Carabas | |