And Nobody disappeared at once, for the children saw Nobody go!
"And now," said the Zankiwank, "we may expect the Griffin from Temple Bar and the Phœnix from Arabia."
A dark shadow enveloped the square in which they were standing; then there was a weird perfume of damp fireworks and saltpetre, and before any one could say Guy Fawkes, the Phœnix rose from his own funeral pyre of faded frankincense, mildewed myrrh, and similar luxuries, and flapped his wings vigorously, just as the Griffin jumped off his pedestal, which he had brought with him, and piped out—
"Here we are again!"
"Once in a thousand years," responded the Phœnix somewhat hoarsely, for he had nearly swallowed some of his own ashes.
The Griffin, as everybody knows, is shaped like an eagle from its legs to the shoulder and the head, while the rest of his body is like that of a lion. The Phœnix is also very much like an intelligent eagle, with gold and crimson plumage and an exceptionally waggish tail. It has the advantage of fifty orifices in his bill, through which he occasionally sings melodious songs to oblige the company. As he never appears to anyone more than once in five hundred years, sometimes, when he has the toothache for instance, only once in a thousand years—which is why he is called a rara avis—if you ever meet him at any time take particular notice of him. And if you can draw, if it is only the long bow, make a sketch of him. He lives chiefly on poets—which is why so many refer to him. He has been a good friend to the poets of all ages, as your cousin William will explain. If you have not got a cousin William, ask some one who has.
Not having the gift of speech, neither of them spoke, but they could sing, and this is what they intended to say, duet-wise:—
I am a sacred bird, you know,
And I am a Griffin bold;
In Arabia the blest
We feather our own nest,
To keep us from the cold.
And we're so very fabulous—
Oh, that's the Griffin straight!
We rise up from the flames,
To play old classic games,
Like a Phœnix up-to-date!