The Trumpeter of Sakkingen Part 25

VII.

May has come now. To the thinker, Who the causes of phenomena Searches, 'tis a natural sequence: In the centre of creation Are two aged white cats standing, Who the world turn on its axis; And their labour there produces The recurring change of seasons.

But why is it in the May month That my eyes are ever ogling, That my heart is so impa.s.sioned?

And why is it that I daily Must be leering sixteen hours From the terrace, as if nailed there, At the fair cat Apollonia, At the black-haired Jewess Rachel?

VIII.

A strong bulwark 'gainst enticements I have built on good foundations; But to the most virtuous even Sometimes come unsought temptations.

And more ardent than in youth's time, The old dream comes o'er me stealing; I on memory's pinions soar up, Filled with burning amorous feeling.

Oh fair Naples, land of beauty, With thy nectar-cup thou cheerest!

To Sorrento I'd be flying.

To a roof to me the dearest.

Old Vesuvius and the white sails On the bay are greeting bringing, And the olive-woods are gladdened By the spring-birds' joyous singing.

To the Loggia slinks Carmela, Strokes my beard with soft caresses; Of all cats by far the fairest, Lovingly my paw she presses.

And she looks on me with longing, But now hark! there is a howling; Is the surf thus loudly roaring?

Or is old Vesuvius growling?

'Tis not old Vesuvius growling, For he holds now his vacation.

In the yard, destruction vowing, Barks the worst dog in creation--

Barks the worst dog in creation-- Barks Francesco, loudly yelling; And my lovely dream's enchantment He thus rudely is dispelling.

IX.

Hiddigeigei strictly shunneth What his conscience might be hurting; But he oft connives benignly At his fellow-cats' gay flirting.

Hiddigeigei with great ardour Makes the mice-hunt his chief duty; And he frets not if another With sweet music worships beauty.

Quoth the wise cat Hiddigeigei: Ere it rots, the fruit be plucking; So, if years should come of famine, Memory's paws remain for sucking.

X.

Even a G.o.d-fearing conduct, Cannot keep us from declining; With despair I see already In my fur some gray hairs shining.

Yes, unpitying Time destroyeth All for which we've boldly striven; For against the sharp-toothed tyrant Nature has no weapons given.

Unadmired and forgotten We fall victims to this power.

Wish I could, with fury raging, Eat both clock-hands of the tower.

XI.

Long past is the time, ere man in his might O'er the earth his dominion was spreading; When the mammoth roamed in his ancient right Through the forests which crashed 'neath his treading.

In vain may'st thou search now far and near For the Lion, the desert's great ruler; But we must remember, that we live here In a climate decidedly cooler.

In life and in fiction is given no praise To the great and the highly gifted; And ever weaker is growing the race Till genius to nothing is sifted.

When cats disappear the mice raise their voice, Till they like the others skedaddle; At last in mad frolic we hear _them_ rejoice-- The infusoria rabble.

XII.

Hiddigeigei sees with sorrow To a close his days are drawing; Death may come at any moment, So deep grief his heart is gnawing.

O how gladly I the riches Of my wisdom would be preaching, That in joy as well as sorrow Cats might profit from my teaching.

Ah! the road of life is rugged; On it rough sharp stones are lying.

Stumbling o'er this path so dreary, Sprained and bruised we limp on crying.

Life oft useless wounds is giving.

For 'tis full of brawls and knavery; Vainly many cats have fallen Victims to an empty bravery.

But for what this constant fretting?

The young cats are laughing ever, No advice from me accepting-- Only suffering makes them clever.

Let us see what they'll accomplish; History's teachings are derided: His sage maxims ne'er to publish, Hiddigeigei has decided.