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Then crafty Puss goes
And hides all the clothes
With grass and dead leaves; and when he perceives
The royal coach nearing him, loudly calls "Thieves!"
His cries the whole neighbourhood round might awaken—
"The Marquis of Carabas' clothes have been taken!"
Said the King, "Deary me!
What is it I see?
My good friend the cat up a tropical tree?"
Ah," said Puss, "my dear master has had a disaster,
For some one has cut—" "Cut! Oh, here's some court plaster."
"No, sire," said the cat,
"He doesn't want that.
He needs no court plaster, but needs a court suit;
For while he was bathing some mannerless brute,
Who had chosen the reeds and the rushes to lurk in,
Cut away with his hosen, knee-breeches, and jerkin."
"Is that all?" said the King;
"My servants shall bring
Whatever is needful—cloak, stockings, cap, sword, robe,
Gloves, collar, and doublet—in short, a whole wardrobe,
Each thing that he wants,
From castor to pants."
[Of course, you 're aware when a king takes the air
He's provided with changes of clothing to spare—
At least, so this legend would seem to declare.]
The servants produce for the Marquis's use
A rich velvet suit with gold trimmings profuse,
A rich velvet mantle with a lining of satin,
A diamond brooch stuck a point-lace cravat in,
While another the ostrich plume fastened the hat in.
These elegant clothes
Were couleur de rose,
With trimmings of green and with apple-green hose,
With noeuds of ruban, to encase his stout mollets (For further particulars, please see Le Follet).
Our hero, attired in the garb thus acquired,
By the King's lovely daughter was greatly admired,
Who sat (as before I intended to state) on
The right of her pa in the royal "phe-ayton."
But I'm bound to confess
Our hero no less
Was charmed by her grace and her beauty in turn—
For if she liked his looks, he was ravished with "hern
Said the King, "My dear Marquis, it's really a treat
Thus to fall in with one I 've been dying to meet.
Pray take a seat,
And let me repeat
How much I'm obliged for your numerous presents
Of partridges, rabbits, grouse, woodcocks, and pheasants.
We 're going for a drive—pray enter the carriage.
Here's my daughter—she's yours, if you wish it, in marriage.
Any news? None, I fear:
Bread's still getting dear,
But the weather is fine for the time of the year.
I suppose we are passing here through your estate?"
So the King rattled on,
But the old miller's son,
Unable to answer, sat scratching his pate,
But Pussy cut in with, "Yes! though he's in doubt of it;
And for why? Dash my wig!
Because it's so big
He never can tell if he's in it or out of it.
But your Majesty, p'rhaps,
Will order your chaps
To drive to the castle, which certainly caps
Any castles you'll meet in a long summer day;
And, if you 'll allow me, I'll show them the way."
To Pussy's request the King promptly accedes,
Bids his coachman to follow wherever he leads,
And away the cat sped
A long way ahead
On a road that was bordered by corn-land and meads.
Pussy well knew
That the land they passed through
Belonged to a wizard—a mighty one, too——
Who, besides with the Evil One being "colloguer,"
(Don't think I, in quoting from "Arrah na Pogue," err:
It's what Shaun the Post says to Feeney,—the rogue—urgh!) *
Was that Middle Aged cannibal known as an ogre.
But where'er in the fields, as on they kept going,
They came upon labourers reaping or mowing,
Or ploughing or harrowing, weeding or sowing—
The cat ran before,
And cried out, "Give o'er!
Your master commands!" and the workmen forebore.
Said Puss, "He 'll approach
In a splendid state-coach,
And has sent me before him these tidings to broach,
And to bid you, unless you wish demons to tease you,
If the King, his companion, inquires who employs you,
With one voice in a moment, men, women, and boys, you
Must haste to declare,
With a satisfied air,
'The Marquis of Carabas, sire, an it please you!'
See! The carriage draws near!
Come, haste! Do you hear?
Quit all occupations,
And haste to your stations,
And give him the lowest of low salutations!"
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The poor people, afraid,
His orders obeyed.—
The Marquis himself became rather dismayed,
* This expletive, used to express utter loathing,
I scarcely can spell—
One really can't tell
How to put sounds in etymological clothing.
Thinking what was to end all these funny proceedings
Into which he was following Pussy's queer leadings;
But he felt he was sinned against rather than sinning
For Pussy strange fun
With the clothes had begun,
But what would the close be of such a beginning?
Still on Pussy speeds
By pastures and meads,
And the coachman still follows wherever he leads.
"Your estates are enormous—
Pray, Marquis, inform us,
If I may inquire,
Did they come from your sire?
He must really have been a most terrible lord,
Acquiring so much by the right of the sword.
I'm pleased to perceive,
With such riches to leave,
He'd a son of such merit
The wealth to inherit
Of so mighty a conqueror and enemy-killer."
"Yes," said the youth,
"To tell you the truth,
My late father had quite a renown as a miller."
The Princess smiled sweetly,
As if to hint neatly,'
Though she counted the father
A conqueror rather,
She fancied the son
Had a victory won—
In fact, she was sure—as the smile would infer—
About one of his conquests, and that was of her!
For she felt he was lord of her bosom completely.
And now the fields and meads they leave;
To right and left huge mountains rise,
And seem—so much their heights deceive—
With lofty crests to touch the skies.
Pine forests clothe their sombre sides,
Where dark ravines and gorges frown,
And many a mountain torrent glides,
Or bounds from ledge to ledge adown.
Their mighty wings the eagles flap
High up among the summits lone,
Whose peaks the snows eternal cap,
Or where the glacier billows groan.
But in the plain about the base
Of this portentous mountain chain,
The signs of human toil they trace,
And find men labouring again.
Here, turned by some wild torrent's force,
Huge wheels revolve with busy hum;
There some vast chasm stops their course,
Whose depths the eye would vainly plumb;
Or, laden deep on shrieking wheels,
Toil waggons up the steep inclines:
Their load the mystery reveals,—
This region is a place of mines!
As soon as Puss got to this desolate spot,
Addressing the miners, he kept up the plot.
"See your master approach
In the King's grand state-coach;
He has sent me before him, his orders to broach.