With the sweet princess on her plumaged lair,
Speed giving to the winds her lustrous hair;
And so she journey'd, sleeping or awake,
Save when, for healthful exercise and air,
She chose to "promener à l'aile," or take
A pigeon's somerset, for sport or change's sake.
VI.
"Dear princess, do not whisper me so loud,"
Quoth Corallina, nurse and confidant,
"Do not you see there, lurking in a cloud,
Close at your back, that sly old Crafticant?
He hears a whisper plainer than a rant:
Dry up your tears, and do not look so blue;
He's Elfinan's great state-spy militant,
His running, lying, flying footman too,—
Dear mistress, let him have no handle against you!
VII.
"Show him a mouse's tail, and he will guess,
With metaphysic swiftness, at the mouse;
Show him a garden, and with speed no less,
He'll surmise sagely of a dwelling-house,
And plot, in the same minute, how to chouse
The owner out of it; show him a—" "Peace!
Peace! nor contrive thy mistress' ire to rouse;"
Return'd the princess, "my tongue shall not cease
Till from this hated match I get a free release."
VIII.
"Ah, beauteous mortal!" "Hush!" quoth Coralline,
"Really you must not talk of him indeed."
