Page:The poetical works of Leigh Hunt, containing many pieces now first collected 1849.djvu/136

Then quoth Madame d'Arblay, panting much from her journey,
"Well—this beats my father himself, Doctor Burney!!"

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CANTO III.

Of the Supper that Apollo gave his Visitors, and with what sort of spectacle and of after-course he amazed them.

You remember those supper-room walls, made of flowers,
Which beat whatsoever for dead paramours
The lords of the east in white temples have done,
Where in emeralds and rubies fond epitaphs run?^[1]
Well,—a gallery lurk'd sweetly behind them; and there
We spectators, scarcely knowing what took us, or where,
Got somehow, as soon as the guests had down sat 'em,
And found ourselves gazing most snugly down at 'em.

And thus as they sat before supper, to rest 'em,
Fresh airs through the rooms came increasing, and blest 'em;—
So sweet, all grew silent, exchanging rapt looks;
And the silence ran thick with a bubbling of brooks.—

Not long:—for commingling, by finest degrees,
With the stir of the foliage, and swell of the breeze,
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$A concert arose,—so delicious, so new,
So earnest, so fond, so appealing to you,
The notes seem'd to bathe in the tears which they drew.

1. Alluding to the accounts of the mausoleum, in particular, built by one of the Mogul emperors for his mistress, the walls of which were of marble, flowered, as here described, with jewellery.