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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!”