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Edward Cracroft Lefroy: His Life and Poems

including a Reprint of Echoes from Theocritus: By Wilfred Austin Gill: With a Critical Estimate of the Sonnets by the late John Addington Symonds

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THE PAGE
  
  
  


168

THE PAGE

I

Room for Her Highness, ladies gay!
Gentlemen-ushers, clear the way!”
A flourish of trumpets makes known to all
That Madame de Bourbon will open the ball.
With stately mien, and paces slow,
Up to the daïs the courtiers go,
But what is the creature that strives amain
To carry the weight of the royal train?
Is it an imp in human shape,
Or a stunted kind of hairless ape?
Surely it beggars the best of eyes
To follow a form in such disguise.
Look at him well, and then confess
That if, as they say, the art of dress
Is the power to hide, there can't be room
For any reform in yon costume.
A tunic of red with golden lace,
A collar that seems to fence his face,
A velvet pelisse of sapphire blue
And a monster rosette on either shoe;
Fettered with ribands; condemned to wear
A wig of somebody else's hair,
A necklace of gems as large as eggs,
And a sword that is always between his legs;
More than monkey, and less than man—
There never was seen, since Time began,
Such a queer grotesque, I dare engage,
As Madame de Bourbon's youngest page.

169

II

The ball is over: with aching head
The poor little page steals off to bed,
And stripped of the velvet and gold brocade
Is simply the boy that God has made.
Sleep sound, tired fellow! Sweet dreams be yours
Of the château away on the Gascon moors;
Of the father, so stern and yet so true,
Of the mother whose prayers are all for you;
Of the dear little Marie you long to kiss,
And the sturdy limbs of young Narcisse;
Of Léon the hound, polite and tame,
But ever agog for sport or game;
Of Jacquot the pony you once could ride
At your own free will o'er the country-side;—
Till the sun looks in through the window-pane,
And you lose your boyhood over again.