’Twas the favourite subject half over the nation;
And feeling no longer a relish to roam,
He return’d to his Lioness, sullenly, home.
“Fair consort of mine, ’tis our pleasure,” he said,
“To give very shortly, a grand Masquerade.
Tho’ the Butterfly’s ball, and the Grasshopper’s feasts,
Were too mean for my notice, as King of the beasts;
Now the Peacock has chosen to give a fine rout,
Which is heard of so much, is so blazon’d about,