O what a croaking, snarling, and noise!
O what a mewing and yelling!
And even the chimneys all join’d in,
The wonderful chorus swelling.
And loudest of all was heard a voice
Which sounded languid and shrieking
As Sontag’s voice became at the last,
When utterly broken and squeaking.
The whimsical concert! Methinks that they
A grand Te Deum were chanting,
To honour the triumph o’er reason obtain’d
By commonest frenzy and canting.
Perchance moreover the young cats’ club
The opera grand were essaying
That the greatest pianist of Hungary[89]
Composed for Charenton’s playing.
It was not till the break of day
That an end was put to the party;
A cook was in consequence brought to bed
Who before had seem’d well and hearty.
The lying-in woman lost her wits,
Her memory, too, was affected,
And who was the father of her child
No longer she recollected.
Say, was it Peter? Say, was it Paul?
Say who is the father, Eliza!
“O Liszt, thou heavenly cat!” she said,
And simper’d and look’d the wiser.
19. HANS LACK-LAND.
Farewell, my wife, said Lack-Land Hans,
A lofty object elates me;
Far different goats I now must shoot,
Far different game awaits me.
I’ll leave thee behind my hunting horn,
Thou canst in my absence daily,.
Play merrily on it, for thou hast learnt
To blow on the post-horn gaily.