Old Max, of whose singing I oft have approved,
Comes up with his harp—he will serve to amuse.”
The banquet is spread—
At his table’s head,
Decked out in gay garments, sits Rupert the Red;
And close on his right
Is the queen of the night,
Fair Marg’ret, whose beauty’s completely a sight
For a father,—aye, even for “Pater-familias,”—
“Who of all slow papas is the veriest silly ass;