Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 306: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Pickwick Abroad. 249 THE WORLD IN MINIATURE.* The hall is gay with lamp and lustre bright— The feast to every palate gives delight ; The hungry guests devour the sav’ry food, And eat profusely, for the cheer is good ; And at that table—where the wise are few— Both sexes and all ages meet the view ; The sturdy warrior with a thoughtful face— The am’rous youth—the maid replete with grace— The prattling infant—and the hoary hair: Of second childhood’s proselytes—are there ;— And the most greedy, in that spacious hall, Are e’er the young, or oldest of them all ! Helmet and banner—ornament and crest— The lion rampant—and the jewell’d vest— The silver star, that glitter’d fair and bright— The arms that told of many a nation’s might— Th’ heraldic blazonry—th’ ancestral pride— And all mankind could e’er invent beside— The wingéd leopard—and the eagle wild— All these encircle woman, chief, and child, Shine on the carpet underneath their feet, Adorn the dishes that contain their meat, And hang upon the drap’ry, which around Falls from the lofty ceiling to the ground, While on the floor its waving fringe is spread, As the bird’s wings may sweep the rose’s bed.— Thus is the banquet rul’d by Noise and Light, As though they two were foemen in the fight ! The chamher echoes to the din of them Who throng around—each with his diadem— Each seated on a throne—each with a wand Or glittering sceptre in his feeble hand— And on each foot—Qh ! is the lesson vain ?— Is fixed by stubborn Fate a galling chain : Thus hope of flight were futile from that hall— And the chief guest was more enslav’d than all! Th’ intoxicating draught that fires the soul— All ardent Love, who boasts of no controul, Form’d of the sexual breath—/(an idle name, Offspring of Fancy and a nervous frame) — Pleasure, mad daughter of the darksume Night, Whose eye is languid with returning light— The gallant huntsman, o’er the fences borne By stalworth charger, to the sounding horn— The glitt’ring silk—the bed of leaves of rose, Made more to please the sight than court repose ; Where, when your mistress clasps you in her arms, No envious vest need hide her budding charms— The mighty palaces that raise the sneer Of jealous mendicants and wretches near— * © This singular poem, which appeared in a French periodical in 1835, has since been re-published, in Victor Hugo's ‘‘ Chants du Crespuscule,” with the date of 1832, and under the title of Noces ef Festins. The reader will of course perceive that it is an allegorical picture of the world, GOMIICOOO q)