Classic Poem

King Mahawasant of Siam in the East
Rules half of the Indian realm at least;
Twelve kings and the Great Mogul himself
Acknowledge his sway with homage and pelf.

And yearly, with trumpet and banner and drum,
To Siam with tribute the caravans come,
And thousands of camels toil in through the gates
With the best of the produce from all the states.

When he sees the beasts with their heavy piles
The soul of the king in secret smiles,
Though in public he always affects to deplore
That his treasure-house hardly can hold the store.

Yet the building in question is high and vast,
Of a splendour and beauty so unsurpassed
That, outshone by its glory, the magic pales
Of the " Thousand and One " enchanted tales.

In the " Castle of Indra, " the spacious hall,
The gods sit assembled, great and small,
Their golden images chiselled fair,
And encrusted with jewels rich and rare.

They are ranged around, three thousand strong,
A weird, fantastic, awful throng:
Of man and of beast a mixture dread,
With many a hand and many a head.

In the " Purple Hall " amazed one sees
Three hundred stately coral trees
As lofty as palms, that strangely spread
Their twisted boughs — a forest red.

The floor is of crystal without a stain,
Where all the trees are mirrored plain,
And pheasants in glittering plumage go
Gravely and solemnly to and fro.

The favourite ape of the monarch wears
A silken band round his throat. It bears
The key that is cunningly fashioned to keep
The hall which is known as the " Hall of Sleep. "

There precious jewels of priceless worth
Are scattered as thick as peas on the earth,
With the flash of a diamond now and then,
As big as the egg of a barnyard hen.

And there, upon grey bags filled with pearls,
The king will lie down, while the monkey curls
And nestles up close to his master, and soon
They are both asleep to a snoring tune.

But more precious than all, and the crown of the whole,
The joy and delight of the monarch's soul,
The proudest possession of Mahawasant,
Is a wonderful huge white elephant.

To house as was fit his illustrious guest
A palace was built at the king's behest,
Where lotus-carved pillars proudly uphold
A roof covered over with sheets of gold.

Three hundred men by the king's command
At the door as a guard of honour stand,
And fully a hundred eunuchs black
Serve him and kneel with bended back.

On a golden vessel rich and rare
To his trunk they proffer the daintiest fare;
From a silver pail he drinks his wine,
Flavoured with spices sweet and fine.

With attar of roses and ambergris
They anoint the beast as he takes his ease,
With a garlanded head, on the cashmere shawls
That carpet the floors of his spacious halls.

There never was, surely, a happier fate,
Yet no one on earth is content with his state,
And the noble beast, one knows not why,
Began to view life with a jaundiced eye.

This image white of black despair
Stands sad amid all that should make life fair;
They do what they can to cure his woe,
But only to see the malady grow.

In vain before him the gay bayadeers
Come dancing and singing. Unheeding he hears
The drum and the bugle invite him to gladness.
Nothing can alter the elephant's sadness.

So daily the case more desperate grew,
And the heart of the king waxed heavier too,
Till he ordered the wisest astrologer known
To be summoned in haste before his throne.

" Star-gazer, I'll instantly chop off your head
Unless you can answer my question, " he said.
" What malady causes my elephant's gloom,
And what secret sorrows his soul consume? "

The astrologer threw himself thrice on the ground,
And replied to the king with an air profound,
" I will tell you the truth, nor deceive you with lies,
And then you can act as you think most wise.

" In the North a remarkable woman dwells;
She is tall, she is white, and her beauty excels
Even that of your elephant, sire, I swear,
Although he too is superbly fair.

" He would look by her side quite a tiny thing —
Just a little white mouse — she's as tall, O King,
As Bimha the Big in the Ramajana,
Or Ephesus' goddess, the great Diana.

" With what wonderful lines — what a sweep and roll —
Her limbs build up the lovely whole!
Each leg is a proud and fair pilaster
Of dazzling and whitest alabaster.

" God Amor created a temple meet,
A cathedral, in her for his worship sweet;
And the lamp that burns in that holy fane
Is a heart undimmed by deceit or stain.

" To find an image for skin so white
Has baffled the poet's wildest flight.
Even Gautier but winged his way to a fall:
This implacable lady defies them all.

" The snows of the Himalayas fade,
When matched with her hue, to an ashen shade.
In her hand the lily looks sallow and dim,
By the contrast changed, or a jealous whim.

" The Countess Bianca this lady is named;
'Tis at Paris in France that her beauty is famed;
In that land of the North she lives and shines,
And for her, no other, your elephant pines.

" By elective affinity, strange though it seem,
He made her acquaintance by night in a dream.
Yes, softly by night, as he dreamed apart,
This lofty ideal stole into his heart.

" From that hour, consumed by a yearning sad,
He has sickened, who once was so merry and glad.
A four-footed Werther, a stranger to mirth,
He dreams of his Lotte far in the North.

" By mysterious sympathy's subtle law
He thinks of a woman he never saw,
And on moonlight nights he will tramp and sigh,
" Alas! if only a bird were I!"

" In Siam in the flesh, his thoughts are in France,
Where they fly to Bianca, winged by romance.
But when body and soul are thus twain and remote,
The stomach grows weaker, and drier the throat.

" The daintiest meat no longer he touches;
Vermicelli and Ossian — his diet of such is.
He has started a cough, is as lean as a stave;
Already this yearning is digging his grave.

" Would you snatch him from death to which he is hurled,
And restore him, O King, to the animal world,
The illustrious invalid send to the city
Of Paris in France, and Fate may have pity.

" When he sees the lady, and feasts his eyes
On the beauty for which he vainly sighs:
On the charms that have haunted his dreams so long:
His sadness will fly and his body grow strong.

" Where the eyes of his beautiful lady shine
His heart in torment no more will pine;
The last of the shadows that nestling lay
In its depths by her smile will be chased away,

" And her voice like a magic song will control
And resolve the discords that vex his soul;
He will raise up the flaps of his ears forlorn,
And, renewing his youth, feel newly born.

" Life passes so gaily, with never a frown,
By the Seine, in Paris, the frivolous town.
How civilized soon will your elephant grow,
Enjoying the vivid and varied show.

" But one thing do, whatever beside;
Fill full his purse, and the lover provide
With a letter of credit, all calls to meet,
On Rothschild freres , in the Rue Lafitte.

" For a million ducats, or thereabout,
Be this letter of credit; and then, no doubt,
Baron Rothschild will cry, having welcomed him duly,
An excellent soul is this elephant truly!" "

He pondered the question, but thought, to a king,
Is apt to be rather a troublesome thing.
His ape crept up; the matter could keep;
And both of them soon were sound asleep.

The decision he came to I cannot yet state;
The Indian mails, as you know, are late.
The last of the mails that came to hand
Was by way of Suez, and overland.