Chapter IV: Part 4

“Just as I found him I accidentally plucked a somewhat larger blossom than the rest from off its long, green stem, and, not exactly thinking of what I was doing, I parted the petals; and there, in the very heart of the flower, I saw the sweetest little fellow in creation.

“In spite of the fact that he had been disturbed in a nap—for he woke up the very moment I espied him—his face instantly wreathed itself in smiles, and he waved his tiny hand at me in the friendliest greeting imaginable. Of a truth his whole attitude and bearing were so pleasant and affable that I was greatly taken with him, and felt an immediate desire to have him tell me something of his history, and his work. Indeed, so strongly was my curiosity aroused, that, almost before I was aware of it, I said: ‘Who are you, and what is your story?’

“And this is what he said in answer to my question:—

“‘My name is Clover Perfume, and I am one of a very numerous family. To tell you the truth, I have brothers and sisters and all manner of other relatives all over the world. Everybody knows me,’ he continued, ‘except those who cannot smell, and they would nearly give their noses to make my acquaintance!’

“Here he laughed so merrily that for the life of me I couldn’t help laughing too, though what it was all about I really couldn’t say.

“‘But,’ said he, ‘although I am so widely known and, I think, very well liked, I have never before been asked to tell my story. I have just been accepted as a matter of course, and nobody has been the least little bit interested to know anything about my origin or history.’

“Here he heaved a very great sigh, and the breath that he expelled from his lungs was so divinely sweet that it filled my senses with delight.

“Instantly recovering himself, however, he brightly added: ‘Still, I am very, very glad that you have asked me to tell you my story, and if you will listen, it will be a pleasure to let you hear it from beginning to end.’

“‘Go on!’ said I, encouragingly; ‘you will find in me a very patient listener.’

“‘Well,’ he commenced, ‘as you are probably very well aware, when God first made man he was nothing more than a lifeless image; he could neither move nor speak! But having fashioned him so much like Himself, and being pleased with His work, God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul! This was the greatest of all gifts. On no other created Thing was anything like so remarkable and wonderful a gift bestowed.

“‘But, what you do not know is that, whilst the making of man was in progress, the trees and flowers were looking on—silent, still, and breathless with amazement and surprise. Indeed, so astonished were they, so overpowered at the miracle they were privileged to see, that they temporarily ceased to grow, and might easily have died.

“‘But this was not to be; for, seeing what had happened, God caused them to revive, and knowing that He had already fixed for them their stations and their modes of life, out of His great compassion, and because of the awe and reverence with which they had looked upon His work, said to them: “Behold I give unto you a further gift. Beauty and symmetry thou hast! In addition, take from Me all those who will, the gift of sweetness, that ye may forever bear witness to the airs of Heaven and the glory of your Creator!”

“‘So saying, into the soft and balmy air He breathed one glorious breath, which, spreading and falling, was, in the process, disintegrated or broken up into a myriad marvellous atoms. These ineffably sweet and fertilising atoms the trees and flowers immediately and eagerly in-breathed—some more, some less, each according to its mode and manner, but all with rapturous delight.

“‘And one tiniest atom there was that, falling lower than the rest, fell upon a pale white clover blossom, who, when she drew in the impregnating life-giving breath of the Almighty, blushed to rosy redness, and in perpetual remembrance of that great occasion, has ever since retained her beauteous colouring....

“‘Later on I was born, and, even as I lay in the soft and delicate arms of my roseate mother, she began to whisper to me little portions of this wondrous story.

“‘As I grew in strength, and my mind acquired a better grasp of things, I finally got to understand the meaning of it all, and to appreciate to the full how remarkably lucky I was to have been blessed with so fortunate a mother.

“‘When, at last, she saw that I was fully awake to all these things, she began to confide in me the set ambition of her life, the dearest wishes of her heart. And those wishes I am proud and happy to execute, for they not only serve to indicate the loving and the gracious nature of my mother, but they are in themselves so pleasing that I have no other aim in life except to carry them out.

“‘As to what they are, you, perhaps, may guess.

“‘In a few words, my mother desired above all other things in the world, that some portion of the boon which had been so marvellously bestowed upon her, might in turn be given to all her kith and kin; and as I had been endowed from birth with the peculiar faculty of being able to transfer to others some small part of the gift of sweetness she had been enabled to transmit to me, she naturally and properly taught me how to exercise and use my talent to the utmost of my capacity.

“‘So it is then that, like a bee, I am engaged in flitting from flower to flower in order to place in the heart of each a tiniest drop of that miraculous God-given essence which, as you have learned, was intended to be an eternal reminder of the fact, that, like the sweet odours of Heaven, the perfume of the flowers and trees is of Divine origin.’”

As soon as the story was over it immediately became apparent that something was about to take place which was unknown to Prince Waratah, and quite outside the plan that he had in mind when the evening’s amusement was begun; for, just as he was rising to intimate what the next item was to be, King Acacia whispered something in his ear, and he sat down again.

What had been said to the Prince nobody knew; but as afterwards appeared, it must have been a request to be permitted to communicate to the guests a most important piece of information. That this was the case found instant confirmation in the fact that with a nod to King Eucalyptus, they both rose in their places, and King Acacia, addressing the assembled company, said:—

“We have almost come to the end of the evening’s fixture. Before the last item is called, however, there is a ceremony to be performed which King Eucalyptus and I have agreed should now take place. We therefore ask the Official Recorder, who has already been secretly informed of what is to take place, whether he is ready to proceed?”

And the Official Recorder answered: “Ready, Your Majesties—and at your service!”

“Then,” said King Acacia, “we have to announce that, in recognition of the almost miraculous service performed by Prince Waratah in the building of the Fairy City, and the erection of the glorious Palace in which we are all met, as well as to fittingly mark this great occasion, it has been decreed and determined that from this day forth Prince Waratah shall be King Waratah, and Princess Wattle Blossom shall be Queen Wattle Blossom!”

This altogether unexpected announcement naturally came as a surprise to everybody, the Prince included, but when the nature of it was fully grasped, it was followed by cheer after cheer until the room rang with their reverberations.

Proceeding again, when silence was restored, King Acacia turned to the Official Recorder and said:

“Take notice, that we, King Acacia and King Eucalyptus, in pursuance of the powers conferred upon us all by the Kings of Fairyland, do require you to set down in golden letters, in the ‘Official Archives,’ the fact that we, this day, in the presence of his people name the Prince Waratah, King! And in token of his Kingship we here and now invest him with the symbols of his authority!”

He then lightly touched King Waratah upon the shoulder to indicate that he was to stand up, and, as he did so, King Eucalyptus placed about his shoulders a magnificent carmine coloured robe embroidered with gold, whilst King Acacia placed upon his head a splendid crown, so fashioned that it was easy to distinguish the design of Eucalyptus leaves which adorned the band about his brow, and the several sets of blood-red rubies set in the shape and form of Waratah blooms, which rose therefrom.

Without an instant’s pause, however, King Eucalyptus then spoke to the Official Recorder as follows:—

“Take notice that we, King Eucalyptus and King Acacia, in pursuance of the powers conferred upon us by all the Kings of Fairyland, do require you to set down in letters of gold, in the ‘Official Archives,’ the fact that we this day, in the presence of her Lord and of his people, name the Princess Wattle Blossom, Queen! And in token of her queenly rights, subject to her husband, King Waratah, we invest her with the symbols of her authority!”

He then lightly touched the Queen upon the shoulder to indicate that she was to stand up; and, as she did so, King Acacia placed about her shoulders a violet coloured robe embroidered with silver, whilst King Eucalyptus placed upon her head a lovely crown, so fashioned that it was easy to distinguish the design of wattle leaves which adorned the band about her brow, and the several sets of yellow topazes, set in the shape and form of sprays of wattle blossom, which rose therefrom.

Thus were both proclaimed and crowned, and the Official Recorder, in accordance with his duty, closed the ceremony by saying:

“Take notice, that I have this day officially recorded in letters of gold, in the Official Archives, the proclaiming and the crowning of King Waratah and Queen Wattle Blossom! So be it! Praise be to God!”

Led by the Band, the whole company then joined in singing—

THE FAIRIES’ NATIONAL ANTHEM.

Praise to God, the King of Kings,
Lord of all created things!
Prince of Love, and Master Mind,
Still direct us, lest we find
That for lack of Thine assistance
Evil meet with scant resistance.
That in service we, to Thee,
May Thy gracious kindness bring
Back in splendid blossoming!
Shelter, Lord, our noble King,
Safely underneath Thy wing.
Grant him health, and strength, and skill,
Aye to do Thy Sovereign Will!

When the last notes of the anthem had died away, at a sign from King Waratah everybody except himself sat down.

Raising his right hand straight above his head, forefinger pointing to the Heavens, he took the Fairy oath of allegiance as follows: “I, King Waratah, in the presence of the Official Recorder, and of you all, do solemnly and sincerely undertake that, to the best of my ability and strength, I will justly and truly administer the affairs of my Kingdom. So help me God!” To which everybody added: “So be it!” as the King resumed his seat.

A moment later he smilingly said: “To bring this glorious evening’s pleasures to a close, I will now call upon the fifth of ‘The Five Story Tellers’ to tell us a tale.”

In response “Hearing” immediately stood forth, and this is what he said:—

MUSIC’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I was standing on the rounded shore of the world, gazing into space. As I stood there, lost in thought, my attention was eventually called to a long, slow succession of sounds like sighs, infinitely sad, but inexpressibly sweet.

“Whilst I was wondering what these sounds might mean, and from whence they came, at my feet I suddenly perceived a very extraordinary-looking little person, who appeared to be all head and no body. He was looking up at me with such a wistful expression on his face that I felt impelled to ask him, ‘Who are you, and what is your Story?’ And by way of answer, in a very slow and somewhat hesitating way, this is what he said:—

“‘My name is Music, though my parents call me Breve. For untold ages I have lived upon the outer edge of the earth with my father, Harmony, and my mother, Concord. Both my parents have quite an exalted opinion of me; but so far I have not come up to their expectations. I am very sorry that this should be the case, for nothing would please me better than to justify their hopes.

“‘The truth is, however, that they are so wrapped up in each other and their mutual affairs, that they will not listen to what I have to say, and so I make no progress. I am but a single sound sighing in a wilderness! If by chance I could persuade them, or, for that matter, anyone else, to do what I know in my mind is the right thing to be done, I am certain I should be a success. I know, though they do not, that my head is as full of dainty melodies as a pomegranate is full of pretty seeds, and that if only my poor tongue-tied condition were remedied, so that I might use that organ as it should be used, I could release an Octave, eight little fellows who beneath my tongue are now held captive; but who, if they were only free, are possessed of such astounding and never-ending ability, as to be able to produce a succession of the most musical notes, the like of which have never before been heard.’

“Here he sighed most mightily, and then it was that I saw he rested in the opening of a shell that is called a ‘conch.’

“‘But,’ said I, ‘how am I to loose your tongue? I am no surgeon, neither have I a knife or other cutting instrument wherewith to perform the operation. Besides, would you not die if such an unpractised hand as mine attempted so delicate a task?’

“‘Not at all!’ he replied, in his soft, slow tone; ‘I should certainly die away just as an echo does when fleeing into space; but it really would not hurt me, I assure you!’

“Still feeling very puzzled, however, I sought for further information, and so said to him, ‘But where and how did you become possessed of all these sweet-sounding notes which you claim your Octave can produce with such never-ending brilliance and variety? And further, supposing I were willing to assist you in the direction you desire, having no knife, as I told you before, is there any other way in which I could safely render you the service that you seek?’

“Instantly he brightened, and, speaking as fast as his poor tongue-tied condition would permit, this is what he replied:

“‘These notes that I am simply yearning to release I have carefully gathered together over millions of years! They have come to me from the Ocean and the Breeze, and, as they came, I classified and arranged them. Over me, throughout those infinite ages, the tumbling seas have tossed and the careless winds have blown! But always, whenever a new note I heard, I promptly seized upon it and stored it with the rest, and as it is tens of thousands of years since last I added to my collection, I am now fully satisfied that there are no fresh notes to be obtained.

“‘As to the way in which you can assist me, please hold me up to face the wind, or, better still, blow upon me strongly with your breath, and all will be well.’

“So, obedient to his desire, I picked him up in my two hands, and holding him firmly, blew sharply and strongly upon him with my breath, and, true enough, just as he had predicted, out came eight little fellows who called themselves ‘Semi-Breves,’ dancing and jumping about on my hands in the utmost glee!

“All at once they started singing, ‘Blow again! Blow again!’ and so amused was I with their caperings and cries that I blew upon them just as I had blown upon Breve, whom I thereupon let fall.

“In the flash of an eye my hands filled to overflowing with any number of other little fellows, who called themselves ‘Minims,’ ‘Crotchets,’ ‘Quavers,’ and ‘Semi-Quavers,’ and I know not what beside. And they laughed such pretty rippling laughter that I felt constrained to join them. Yet, almost before I could utter a sound, some of them popped into my mouth, and to my utter astonishment, I found my hard, dry laughter had become almost as musical as their own.

“Whilst still more or less amazed at this delightful discovery, a skylark and a nightingale, attracted by the sweet sounds, came up to listen to what was taking place. ‘Here,’ said I, ‘take some of these for yourselves!’ and I threw to each of them a few of the notes just as they started to speak. Both were nearly choked as the notes went flying down their throats, but when they next essayed to speak they sang instead, and the music in their voices was of such a quality as to leave the listeners spellbound with delight.

“These extraordinary happenings gave me a great idea. Calling to my aid the idling Winds, I said to them, ‘Take from me these glorious notes; spread them far and wide; leaving some where’er you sink to rest, and giving some to all who care to take them. Be swift, and see to it that your task is well performed!’

“Happily the winds were willing to obey my orders; and so, to the uttermost ends of the Universe there was taken a measure of Music’s notes. And to every class and kind of living thing was offered a share. A very few refused the munificent gift, and so spend their lives in stony silence.

“But the great majority accepted, some, the singers, to improve their voices; others, the players upon instruments, to add to the deftness of their fingers and the delicacy of their touch; others, again, such as the Nightingale, the Bul-bul, and the Skylark, to fill the night or morning with their glorious mother melodies, to the great delight of all who pause to hear!”

Thus ended the Story, and so was brought to a happy conclusion the ceremonies and the entertainments connected with the marriage festivities.

The Band then struck up the Fairies’ National Anthem, and as all stood up whilst King Waratah and Queen Wattle Blossom passed slowly and smilingly down the room, there began for the Royal couple such a wonderful career of love and happiness that even to this day it is the pride and joy of Austral Fairyland!

THE MOON’S GARDEN PARTY

In the days before to-day,
Ere the Stars were made to stay
In the places where, since then, they shed their light!
They, the Children of the Sky,
Full of fun, but coy and shy,
To the Moon, their mother, came one happy summer night!
Came they seeking right disposal
Of a sweet but strange proposal;
Which was, that to Earth they should be taken,
And upon its sward so green,
Meet the creatures they had seen
The Sun, with his spears, each morning waken!
Thus it was, their eyes alight,
Round her knees they clustered tight,—
Clamant for the new delight!
And the Moon, Dear Mother Moon!
Smilingly inclined her head,
And in whispers softly said:
“We shall go there very soon, very soon!”
So, without a shred of doubt,
It was thus it came about
That Her Majesty, the Moon,
In her silver gown and shoon,
Held a Revel one high noon
In a large and lovely garden with a Lawn!
And such a Lawn!
It was wide and smooth and ordered,
And with shady trees ’twas bordered
All around!
In the centre, there were beds,
Full of plants; all greens and reds,
And a lake that mirrored them till dawn!
And about the lake so fair
There was wavy maiden-hair
That from out its rocky edges shyly grew!
But, above the mignonette,
Where the other blossoms met,
There were whisperings of apprehensions new;
And the flowers, bathed in light,
Seemed to tremble, as with fright,
When the straying Autumn breezes gently blew!
For the fingers of the wind
Caught them playfully behind,
And so doing, shook their fragrance on the air!
Threw it broadcast on the undulating air!
Out beyond the garden fences,
Through the paddocks, there commences
The unbroken bushland prime;
In its sheltering recesses
Nature nurtures and caresses
All that’s native to this clime!
There, man’s ruthless usurpation
Stops, and peaceful occupation
Is conceded,
Unimpeded,
To all who make it their abode or habitation!
Yet this spot of earth primeval,
With its denizens coeval,
Does not always peace contain;
And the hushed and restful stillness
Oft is broken by the shrillness
Of some cry of fear or pain!
Goshawks grey, or red, or white,
And the tense black-shouldered kite,
Soar and strike the livelong day!
And at night the marbled owl,
Swiftest of night’s hunting fowl,
Swoops upon its startled prey!
Still, not all is black disaster;
Death is fleet, but life is faster,
And its numbers aye o’ermaster
Death’s invading arms!
O’er a gum-tree, lightning-blasted,—
(Where once honey-bees repasted!)
See the Forest Queen her creamy mantle throw;
Or upon a bank of rubble
Barely clothed with ferny stubble,
Watch the purple smilax dainty blossoms blow!
Or again, where “bottle brushes,”
Peopled are by singing thrushes,—
From whose throats a chorus rushes,
Note the Forest’s charms!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Now within the garden grand
A great Summerhouse did stand;
And its doors were very wide and extra high;
For within it, tree-ferns tall,
Spread their fronds from wall to wall,
And so thickly, that they quite shut out the sky.
This, the stars banked up with flowers—
Culled from all the aerial bowers
That behind the clouds are hid from mortal sight!
And they then with loving care
Decked the whole with colours rare,
Brought to beauty by their own resplendent light!
Viands, too, they brought and spread
On a table that with bread
And all delicatest dainties was agleam!
This they did, that guests to leave,
Might, ere going, each receive
From the hostess Queen a gift on which to dream!
In the meantime, there was sent
Through the garden’s wide extent,—
A most kindly note to all who therein delve,
To attend an evening Fete,
When the Moon, in robes of State,
Would receive and entertain them, just at twelve!
Then excitement grew intense,
For a problem so immense
Had not ever met the garden folk before!
How were they to meet the Queen,
Who, ere this, had not been seen,
Save above them, as a Goddess to adore?
Who among them all should lead?
What new dresses would they need?
Would they want an introduction, or just pass
Like the troops upon parade
When a demonstration’s made,
And the King himself reviews them in the mass;
These, and nicer questions all,
At a Conference or Call,
In discussion, were determined and agreed!
So it fell that at long last,
All their worries overpast,
There was nought to do save gather and proceed!
But talk about a clatter!
Speak about a row!
Why a Black’s Corroboree,
Or an Indian Pow-Wow
Are as nothing,
Simply nothing,
To the rattle and the roar
That all other sounds defied,—
When the guests began to pour
Through the gate
At a rate
That a shepherd could not state
If to count them he had tried!
For, like little Dolly Varden,
All the dwellers in the garden,
All the beetles and the other tiny things;
All the spiders and the aphis,
With the “Kooka,” and the Mavis,
Came a-hopping and a-flopping
On their little legs and wings!
And the cries that they emitted!
Made one think that they were fitted
For a Zoo,
Perhaps two!—
By the way they carried on!
But to silence all were bidden,
When from out the cornflowers hidden
Came a Mantis, with his hands outspread and high;
And in tones that each could hear,
Full and round, yet sweet and clear,
Simply cried:
“Stand aside!
For the Mower and his Lady now draw nigh!”
Then to places all were hurried;
Some were late, and so were flurried,
But the Marshal set them right!
Marshal Spider!—
Splendid Rider!—
Mounted on a Magpie proud;—
Set to order,
Quelled disorder,
Closed the lines and kept the crowd!
For the stakes, to which the roses
In the Summer-time were tied;
With their sharp and pointed noses
Stood the carriage drive beside!
Each was held by some tall froggy,
Who upon a Falcon black,
Seemed to wish that it were foggy
So that he might cool his back!
But to duty they were bound,
And not e’en so sweet a sound
As the lapping of the wavelets on the lake.
Could have caused them to forsake,
The especial posts to which they were assigned.
Theirs the task to guard the Drive,
So that each one to arrive,
Might not stray beyond the line
Of the driveway’s broad incline;
But would join with all the rest.
Into proper order pressed,
In the way the marshal had designed!
When at length, in silence standing,
In a voice of power commanding
Spake the Marshal to the rapt, expectant throng:
“Let each gallant pair be ready,
To advance in order, steady,
When the Mower and his Lady move along;
For the Mower is our King,
And behind him we will bring
To Her Majesty the Moon and to her Court,
Such a wealth of garden lore
As may never, never, more
Be attempted or projected e’en in thought!”
Scarcely had the Marshal ended
Ere the Mower’s train extended,
Fell into its place and moved towards the Lawn!
First, of course, the Heralds Royal,
Clothed in all the colours loyal:
Gaudy Butterflies, with banner-wings outspread.
Next the soldier-ants, so sprightly,
Stepping gaily, straightly, lightly,
With what seemed a most determined martial tread!
Followed on the King’s retainers:
Busy bees in brown and gold;
Then the bravos and maintainers;
Hardy beetles, brave and bold.
After these the Knights and Consuls
With their Ladies fair and fine:
All the birds that seek the garden
When the golden wattles shine!
In their midst the Mower stately,
King of all the garden race,—
And his Queen the Water-sprinkler,
Tall and slender, full of grace,
But as shy and quickly startled as a fawn!
Thus, in order, as directed,—
None were otherwise detected,
On they moved to meet the queen!
On the spacious, trim, and flower-surrounded Lawn!
And not least among the party
Were the Mower’s henchmen hearty:
All the tools,
Which he rules
With a blade both swift and keen!
Rake and Hoe and Pick and Shovel;
Fork and Spade and Knife and Can;
Hammer, Saw, and Sieve and Level;
Nails and Screws all spick and span;
Seccateurs and Shears and Spanner;
Nuts and Bolts and Augers fine;
Each according to its manner,—
Rule and Rod and folded line.
E’en the old green garden barrow,
On whose forefront perched a sparrow,
Bobbed along on shaky legs!
Then there came the refuse-bin,
On whose lid of rusty tin
Danced a group of clothes-pegs!
After these the yard-broom strode,
Gruff and grim with seeming ire;
And from out his dark abode
Rolled a coil of fencing wire!
Then emerged the “steps” a-striding,—
On their top a cat was riding,—
Tail erect and back all arched!
Right behind, its white face gleaming,
From beneath its banner streaming,—
Bravely on the flagpole marched!
And, not wishing to be listed
From a gathering so strange,
Came the scythe all bent and twisted,
With the axe, well out of range!
Other things were there in dozens!
Little folk the garden cozens,—
Such as round the Lattice play!
Snails and Slugs and Red-spot Spiders!
Thrifty Ants (those rare providers!)
And the Slaters clothed in grey!
Churchmen, too: The green-robed Mantis,
Praying for the lost Atlantis,—
Or at least they seemed to be!
Lawyers, clad in black and white:
Magpies properly bedight,
And the Lark of Minstrelsy!
Parrot politicians, too,
Talking, talking, as they do,—
Of the scarcity of corn!
When the spring lambs should be shorn!
What would happen without rain—
Would the farmers sow again?
But by far the rarest sight,
Of that wondrous Autumn night,
Were three lovely kittens white;—
Who, within a basket sleeping,
As, ’twas thought, in safest keeping,
Woke to find that, all undone,
Their pink ribbons, one by one,
Had been knotted to their basket
Tightly as a sailor’s gasket!
And, as if by Magic brought,
The basket to a carriage wrought!
‘Twas all so very, very queer,
No kitten outside Fairy-land
Could ever, ever understand
What made the basket disappear,
And, in the twinkling of a star,
Be turned into a basket car!
But a bright-eyed little mouse,
Watching from within the house,
Saw exactly what took place!
Four brown spiders spun the wheels
Round about four cotton reels.
Two red robins wove the hood
Out of grass and chips of wood.
Two jays built the driver’s place
Jutting from the basket’s face.
Two blue wrens, so spry and neat,
Fixed behind a “dicky” seat!
For the lamps, two glow-worms bright,
Shed their lustre on the night!
Two woodpeckers made the pole
From a slender wattle, whole!
Then, the basket car to draw,
Four white gulls, in ropes of straw,
To the carriage firmly tied,
With each other proudly vied,
As they paced along!
A whip-bird drove the willing team,
By the star-light’s silver gleam!
At his side a soldier-ant,
(Sort of footman-Adjutant!)
Care-free quite of war’s alarms
Sat with loosely folded arms!
Four more soldier-ants beside,
Lent an air of splendid pride
To the kittens shy inside!
Two to ride postillion-wise;
Two to guard and supervise
From the seat behind!
Thus to meet the Queen they fared;
Nothing wanting, nothing spared
To please the eye and mind!
But, before they reached the Queen,
There was quite a little scene——
That a temporary stoppage did entail;
For, with not a warning note,
From the Rosary remote,—
Came a sound that made the anxious Marshal quail!
It was due to some field crickets,
Who, on coming through the pickets,
Had been told to be quite ready
To play something soft and steady
When Her Majesty the Moon,—
(Who conferred on them the boon!)
Should come forth to meet her guests upon the Lawn!
But the Band,
At its stand,
Should have waited the command
To begin the music mystic,
With its Summer strain artistic,—
Ere it broke
At a stroke
Into tunings that the sleeping echoes woke!
So, the worried Marshal spider,
Sent a swallow-scout outrider
With most mandatory orders
To retire behind the borders,
And await the time propitious
To begin the strain ambitious,
Which should tell in martial bars
That the Queen and Court of stars,
With attendant satellites,
And the page boy stellar sprites
Were in waiting on the Lawn!
On the smooth and spacious Lawn!
When the episode was ended,
And a like mistake forfended,
Forward went the line extended
Down the carriage drive!
Turning, where the beds give entry,
Past a Robin Redbreast sentry,
Without haste, as do the gentry,
On the lawn did they arrive!
And the Moon that moment walking,
With her starry daughters, talking,
From the Summer-house came forth!
On the instant, came the crashing
Of the cricket music dashing,
Swift as pallid lightning flashing
From the far-off sombre North!
Stood aside the Heralds then,
Stepped behind attendants ten,
And The Mower and his Lady met the Queen!!
What a scene!
Surely ne’er before was seen
So much majesty serene,
So much graciousness and light
As graced the lawn that autumn night!
For, as each made due obeisance,
With polite and sweet complaisance,—
And passed on;
Into scattered knots and groups,
Into merry little troups
They fell;
And the swell
Of the mingled conversations,
And the witty observations;
The soft requests
And whispered jests,
With the laughter
That came after,
To the Queen and all her Court was music rare!
And the supper fine that followed!
Oh! what quantities they swallowed
Of the dainties and the delicacies rare!
Black ants’ milk and box-tree honey;
Manna flakes, the shapes of money;
All the richest kinds of berries,
Currants, bush-grapes and wild cherries!
Grains and seeds and sugar-beet
Such as field birds love to eat!
Dew, in cups the gum-trees make
For their lovely blossoms sake.
These and other things galore
That the ants and spiders store!
Ev’ry sort of tasty dish
Such fastidious folk could wish!
Ne’er before was served such fare;
Full and plenty and to spare!
Supper over, oh, what fun,
Was upon the lawn begun!
Dances, jigs, and turkey-trots
Round about forget-me-nots,—
Whose sweet eyes of tender blue
With amazement changed their hue,
When a hammer and a spanner
Underneath the Queen’s own banner,
In a rather awkward manner
Danced a sort of highland fling!
And a lanky Adjutant,—
With the red-legged Crane, his aunt,
Winked his eye, and said, “I can’t
Say I like this kind of thing!”
But the Augers straight and strong,
With their own peculiar song
Drowned his voice their chords among,—
As they sang:
“Come along! Oh, come along!
Join the happy gladsome throng!
Games that everyone can play;
Now’s your chance, so come away!”
Ring-a-rosy! Twos and threes—
Which the bees
‘Mid the trees,
Played with such consummate ease,
That the Ladybirds they chased
Tripped and stumbled as they raced,
Quite outpaced
By those honey-hunter bees!
And the sly and subtle chaffing
Of the Lovers, who, since quaffing
Each the other’s health,
Had by stealth,
Sought out places where they might
Woo delight,
Free from all the tauntings light
Of the Merry-makers bright!
But, of course,
No resource
Of the sweethearts, could perforce
Any sort of quietude enforce.
So they had to just submit
To the things that stung or hit
As do lovers everywhere!
Here and there
Amid the crowd
Could be seen the elegant or proud;
Whilst some, alas,
(But let that pass,)
Were what is known as “loud.”
The Rake and Hoe, a wicked pair:
Knight bachelors are they,
With easy style, true debonair,
Went strolling ‘mid the ladies fair,
The gayest of the gay!
The Spade went prinking round the lawn,
Miss Shears was on his arm!
The Hay-fork pitched about till dawn
Forgetful of the Farm!
The Fern-tubs frowned upon the scene,
The Lattice glared its grief;
The Bulbs, in pots, though quite serene,
Displayed a sad belief
That all this freakish capering
Must bring its own relief!
And so it chanced!
For, with scarce a warning sound,
Straightly stepping o’er the ground
Where the fence was broken, found,
Came the bush-folk forth to greet the Queen!
From the Forest they came ranging,
All in order, never changing,
In a stream across the paddocks green!
At their head, twelve Ibis slender,
Hid from view a kind of Tender
Borne upon the backs of Iguanas strong!
This, first strewn with sweet wild clover,
Was with bush flowers covered over;
One fair bloom for ev’ry member of the throng!
These, as Tribute was intended
For the Queen Moon great and splendid,
Whom to honour and to serve
Without question or reserve
Was a duty that they loved to pay!
And their sacred emblem-flowers,
Choicest of the Forest dowers,—
Were their gracious Queen to show,
That among her folk below,
Nothing could their true allegiance sway!
Thus enhanced,
Through the garden they advanced
Making for the Lawn!
On they came!
The Emus stately,
Proudly, quietly, sedately;
Followed by the Herons fine!
Wombats, Wallabys and Dingoes;
Grey Companion-Flamingoes;—
‘Keets and Lories line on line!
Woolly Bears and ‘Possums grey;
Singing birds and birds of prey;
Platypuses; blue-tongued Lizards;
Mallee Hens, and Bower-Bird wizards,—
Hiding all they find away!
Cockatoos, white, black and pink;
Kestrels, Kites and Shrikes and Bats;
Flying Foxes; Native Cats;
Plovers from the Marsh’s brink!
Kangaroos, like tall men walking;
Cassowaries gravely stalking;
Falcons black, and Wedge-tailed Eagles,—
Strongest of the feathered beagles!
And the Egrets all too rare!
Black-necked Storks with wings so spacious;
Lyre-birds beautiful and gracious,
And the Magpie Lark so spare!
Honeyeaters, Red-capped Robins;
(In and out like fiery bobbins!)
Wrens of ev’ry sort and hue,
And the great Kingfisher blue!
Whipbirds, Rails and Orioles;
Bronzewing Pigeons; Pratincoles;
Every Austral bird of note,
From the Owl to Pardalote!
Soarers, perchers, coursers, waders,
Like an army of invaders,
On they came towards the Lawn!
The spacious, cool, green Lawn!
Presently, as they drew nearer,
Forms and faces growing clearer;
Silence fell,
Like a spell,
On the guests who just before
Had not dreamed there was in store,
A sight so passing strange!
E’en the Queen herself, ’twas plain,
Looked for someone to explain,
At and on whose word they came!
But, as soon as on the Lawn
The new arrivals all were drawn;
Forward stepped a Cockatoo,
In his milk-white plumage new;
And in accents somewhat high,
Said they thus had ventured nigh,
That they might their homage yield,
To their Sovereign and their Shield,
For whose sake they’d gladly die.
Then, without undue premise,
Like a statesman, very wise,—
Craved the Queen’s most sweet permission,
To present, without omission,
All the several little groups
That in eager anxious troupes
Waited on her word!
And the Queen,
It was seen,
Smiled so gracious a consent,
That they all, with one intent,
As in passing, down they bent,
Flung their flowers about her feet!
Ringed her round with posies sweet!
This fair ceremony ended,
Everyone who there attended,
As their way about they wended,
Met and fraternised!
Filling out the pleasures light
Of that most historic night!
Thus, as in a lover’s passion,
Passed the time in wondrous fashion;
Full of such excitements new,
That the moments simply flew,—
On, and on, towards the dawn!
Then,
Ere the sun
Had begun
To ope his golden portals,—
Or awake were sleepy mortals;
All by common impulse moved,
Turned towards the Queen they loved,
And bending low, gave salutation!
Yet, ere moving finally away,
“Farewell! A fair farewell!” to each they say;
Resolved through work or play,
To keep that night of nights,
Like some green growing thing,
The symbol of Eternal Spring,
In sweet and fondest memory for aye!
And the Moon and starry Court,
That the wonderment had wrought,
Faded slowly out of sight
In a blaze of newer light;
So strong and bright
That it swept away the night,
And to the wakened World a new Day brought!