13
He they so long bewailed in orphan station.
Now, at his bidding troop from every side
In mighty conclave all the apish nation;
With gibbering goblins all the jungles chide
As all rush off where stands ’mid ruins hoary all
Their Parliament House from times immemorial.
’Mid most the ruined cities’ crumbling eaves
O’er which the wood a second roofage weaves
A grey pagoda stands, all weather battered,
Girdled with hosts of countless images,
Cupids and animals and turrets scattered
Concentric, mosses hide a ruined frieze,
And on four trunks of elephants converging,
Is seen a little spike-crowned dome emerging.
On this small cupola, as on a throne, is
Already seated Hanuman, in clusters
On statuettes and turrets lower down is
All that of birth and breeding apedom musters;
Already, too, through all its precincts bustle,
From tree and ruin, members here assembling,
And o’er it all the waving branches rustle
Forming a vault, some palace choir resembling.
But now the cupola seems all alive,
And by the little satans wondrous dances,
Buzzing and swarming like a monkey hive,
Changed to a waving world of mango plants is,
Bread trees, bananas, banyans and filling
Fast with live fruits that dangle from the ceiling.
Lo! all the branches round are swaying, spinning
With swarms grotesque of bodies frizzed and furry,
And with a hundred monkey masks are grinning:
Down by the pendent, spreading creepers hurry
