The Spider taketh hold with her hands and is in Kings'
palaces.--_Proverbs of Solomon_ 30:28.--
What dost thou there, unlucky wight,
Upon that cornice fair,
Midst things so beautiful and bright?
Thy many eyes might sure have sight
To see that it would not be right
To do thy spinning there!
These things, I own are wondrous fine
And beautiful and bright;
And eyes, accustomed less than mine
To things that so resplendent shine,
No doubt to wonder would incline
And gaze at such a sight;
But I've been used to splendid things--
Familiar long at Courts;
In all the palaces of Kings,
My beauteous five-twined net-work swings,--
Of this a sacred poet sings
And History reports.
The wisest of the sons of men--
(And glorious too was he)
With graphic and historic pen
Describes the blessed era, when
Amidst his court--in glory then--
He gave a place to me.
Since then, each Queenly drawing-room
Hath own'd me for a guest,
And where the eternal roses bloom,
In Tapestry, from the Gobelin's loom,
To hang my own, I dare presume--
Finer--by all confest.
Tapestry in needle-work is seen
In stately Hardwicke Hall;
Done by the famous Scottish Queen
When captive there,--her thoughts to wean
From chequered past, or gloomier scene
That might her steps enthral.
My skill with her I used to try,
When she was sad and lone,
And oft amused her languid eye
By spinning down so merrily;
And now her handiwork close by
Is proudly hung my own.
Poor Coligni's untimely doom,
When Medicis was Queen,
Was pictured in the Gobelin's loom;--
Colors of light o'er thought of gloom,
Like sun-shine on an unblest tomb--
Portray'd the historic scene.
The broach and reed I saw them ply,
And work the wondrous loom;
Nor broach nor loom nor silk had I,
But spun my web and wove it by,--
They watch'd me with invidious eye
And swept me from the room!
The wise may triumph o'er the proud:
Their work of skill complete
Adorn'd the palace of St. Cloud,--
And there, amidst the courtier crowd,
Where weaver Gobelin never bowed,
I took my honored seat.
'Twere long, my life and works to trace
Through lines of Kings renown'd--
How mirrors proud my net-works grace
Where daily shines a princely face
And hang--most worthy of the place--
Corregio's pictures round.
None _my prerogative_ disown,
Nor is it ought to me
What Dynasties the nations own;--
Whether _Legitimates_ alone
Or "_Citizens_" usurp the throne
_To make the people free_.