32
The tail? beneath the steel, without restriction
It fell, the name e’en being expunged from diction.
Poor thing, it served to dust the floor or clothes:
The ladies, though, kept theirs; it came in handy
As bustle paddings, in default of those
That nowadays round off our female dandy.
Where palaces of ancient rajahs lifted,
Mid-most the ruined streets, their blue walls rifted,
Half in the wood’s dense roofage disappearing,
And bells of creepers on the façade bearing,
Which many a trace of bygone glory cherished,
The Ape chief raised his seat o’er those had perished.
Before a time-worn gate, whose traceried fretwork,
Moss overrun, and flower stars’ heavier network,
As guard of honour, to and fro, and making
At need a military salute, lo! paces
Ape martial—in a uniform so taking,
Cut à la Gerolstein—’twas once her Grace’s.
And ’neath the graceful archway of the portal
With a cocked bat, fur tippet rich in laces,
Gold mounted staff, his thin fist scarce embraces,
Behold ape concièrge—as his colleagues mortal
Cock their disdainful eye at you-he cocks his:
The porter’s lodge, by the way, a prompter’s box is.
And then you pass o’er Persian carpets, all of
The finest work, through suites of gilt and buhl
To where a spacious inner vestibule
Conducts you to the monarch’s audience hall, of
The loveliest side scenes built, bespangled, clipped,
And in unheard-of pomp and pride equipped.
Fine silver-broidered tapestries here float o’er you,
A splendid carved arm-chair, too, stands before you.
