JUNIUS JUDEX.
Awake, O Themis-twangled lyre, awake,
And give to pæans all thy sounding strings!
Here is a triumph joyfuller than Spring's.
JEUNE smacks of Summer rather, and must take
The cake!
As frescoed heroes cloud-borne progress make,
So—happy apotheosis!—advances
Stately Sir FRANCIS!
See how late-knighted Justice moves along,
High, majestic, smooth and strong,
Through Cupid's maze and Neptune's mighty main
(O Wimpole Street, uplift the strain!)
Toward that proudly portal'd door.
Silk gowns and snowy wigs raise the applausive roar!
O Sovereign of the Social Soul,
Lady of bland and comfort—breathing airs,
Enchanting hostess! Business cares
And Party passion own thy soft control,
In thy saloons the Lord of War
Muffles the wheels of his wild car,
And drops his thirsty lance at thy command.
Smoothed by a snowy hand,
Aquila's self, the fierce and feathered king,
With sleek-pruned plumes, and close-furled wing
Will calmly cackle, and put by
The terrors of his beak, the lightnings of his eye.
Thine the voice, the dance obey;
Tempered to thy pleasant sway,
Blue and Buff, Orange and Green,
In polychromatic harmony are seen,
As on a bright Jeune day.
And now JEUNE triumphs in no minor measure.
Judicial Pomp and Social Pleasure
Now indeed make marvellous meeting.
See with suasion firmly sweet
That brisk trio, gaily greeting
To that portal guide his feet.
Neptune's hoarse hails his friend's approach declare,
Probate, the winged sprite, about must play;
With wanton wings that winnow the soft air
In gliding state Lord Cupid leads the way
To where grave Law must mark, assay, reprove
Wanderings of young Desire, and lures of fickle Love!