Poems Sigourney 1827/The Comet of 1825

 
Amid the bright, ethereal road,
Serene, the solar system glow'd,
From central orb, to farthest space,
Each marshall'd planet knew its place,
All measuring out their varied year
Amid the music of the sphere,
As when from chaos first they sprang
And morning stars together sang.—
—But all at once, a stranger came
With fearful haste on car of flame,

And seem'd to threat with eagle swoop
The safety of the placid group.—
—Him, heavy Herschel first espied
And to his guards in waiting, cried,
"Ho!—heave a light out,—starboard—quick!
The atmosphere 's so dense and thick
The longitude I cannot take,
But bearing down upon our wake
A questionable shape I spy,
That through the mist looms large and high;
I' d send a boarding-boat, and know
Whether it comes as friend or foe,
But far its speed transcends my power,
It moves at forty knots an hour,
Stand to your tackle all!—I fear
'T is some amphibious privateer."—
From moon to moon his orders ran,
Like admiral's to midshipman,
So all, their heads together laid,
Voted to call for Saturn's aid.
Then through his speaking trumpet hoarse
Stout Herschel blew a blast of force,—
His shipmates rang their bugles keen,
And fired their signal guns between.
—Grave Saturn shoved his ring aside,
Put on his spectacles, and cried,
"These idle stragglers sure increase,
Who do no work, but break the peace,
Poach where they choose on other's grounds,
And scorn all fences, rights, and bounds.—
See,—how yon flaunting coxcomb speeds,
And lashes on his foaming steeds,

Sheer o'er my turnpike-gate he leaps,
And pays no toll,—no Sunday keeps,—
He 'll kill his horses soon,—'t is clear,
We strangely need a work-house here."—
—Then added soon, with smother'd ire,
"Perchance he comes to bring our Sire
Fuel to feed his wasted fire;
Should coals be rendered cheaper here,
And our long winters less severe,
We needs must wink at this career."—
So bade his satellites to keep
Close by his side like folded sheep,
For belted Jupiter had thrown
His gauntlet at the usurper down;—
"Ha!—Saturn! give the watch-word there,
And bid the intrusive spy beware,—
Call out your forces!—sure there 's need!—
Or stay,—I 'll come and take the lead;"
Then cap-a-pie stood forth to view
Like Bonaparte at Waterloo.—
—But blustering Mars his speech curtail'd
And Jupiter and Saturn hail'd—
"D' ye sleep,—while such bold traitors tramp
Straight o'er the bulwarks to the camp?—
The powers in office best should know
Why I am disregarded so,—
Without a man or horse to aid
'Gainst rude attack, or ambuscade,—
My martial spirit chafes to bear
Such cowardice, and laws unfair,
Things cannot long be thus deranged,
Our constitution must be changed;"

And as he shook his warlike head,
His sanguine visage wax'd more red,
Like blacksmith's anvil bright with beating,
Or demagogue at freemen's meeting.—
—The Asteroids were sadly flutter'd,
And all in chorus groan'd and sputter'd,—
For youngest daughters of the sphere,
And from the nursery scarce set clear,
They deem'd themselves exceeding wise
In all the secrets of the skies.
Sleek Madam Vesta, skill'd to peep
When in her cradle, feigning sleep,
Had heard by stealth, that she was fair,—
So putting on her prettiest air,
She thought the guest she would not miss,
But win a sugar-plum or kiss.
Her visage shone so sweetly mild,
That shrewish Juno chid the child,—
And Pallas bade her mind her book,
And on the letters strictly look:—
While thrifty Ceres, early taught
To hoard the half-pence that she got,
Lock'd up her tiny stores with grief,
And in the stranger smelt a thief,
Gave up her vast domains for lost,
And like a roasting chesnut toss'd.—
—Tellus, the news could scarcely brook,
And with a strong rheumatic shook,
A chronic weakness which had clung
Close to her nerves, since she was young,—
When a cold rain, and tedious flood
Long in her upper stories stood.—

—Some superstitious legend, she
Had listening, learn'd in infancy,
That when old age should o'er her creep
And dotage lull her powers to sleep,
A flaming foe, with purpose dire,
Should rushing, set her clothes on fire.
She fear'd he might forestall the time,
Although she scarce was in her prime
She said;—but yet was prone to make
About her age some slight mistake,—
Like waning spinsters, who forget
Nothing,—except their proper date,
And sometimes tear the leaf outright
From bible register in spite.
So mother Earth oppressed with fear,
Blamed her unfriendly atmosphere,
And faint and nervous, shriek'd to see
Her sole attendant, apogee,
And rang and call'd like timid crone,
Caught in a thunder-storm alone.
—Miss Luna, muffling up her head,
Went with the ague, straight to bed,
Put out her lamp, and bade them tell
She could not hear her mistress' bell,
Begg'd them with motherwort to dose her,
And drew her cloudy night-cap closer.—
—But beauteous Venus, newly drest,
Was glad to hear of stranger-guest,
Peer'd out to see his trappings shine,
And smiled and murmur'd—"La! how fine!
Phœbus so stingy is, and cold,
That our court-dresses all are old,—

And every beau so stupid grown,
I 'm moped to death here, quite alone,—
This traveller looks prodigious grand,—
Why Lord!—he 's driving four in hand,—
Old Sol can boast no studs so nice
They 'd whisk to Sirius in a trice.
Straight toward our Sire he hastes, I see,
To make proposals, sure, for me,—
I hope he 's rich,—for that 's the thing,
His equipage bespeaks a king.—
Both chivalry and taste he 'll prove,
By such a journey too, for love."—
With that, she drew her dressing case
To rub the spots from off her face,
But warn'd by woman's latent fear
Too bold or willing to appear,
All faint and fluttering as a bride
She threw her lattice up, and cried—
—"Mercury!—dear neighbour! stop, I pray!
What savage monster flies this way?—
I 'm scared to death,—in such a fright
I have not slept a wink all night.
You 're in your perihelion, too,
So handy to the palace, do
Just stop,—such tremors shake my frame,
And ask our Sire the creature's name."—
—So Mercury, train'd like modern beaux
To oblige the ladies, when he chose,
Made his best congee, bending low,
And promptly answer'd "I will so."—
Then donn'd his salamander hat,
And off upon his transit sat,

New-greased his wheels,—and loosed his reins
Swifter to scour wide Ether's plains,
And popp'd the question to the Sun
Just as the guest his gate had won.—
—The monarch sternly from his throne
Rebuked his household, every one,
Said 't was a shame that stranger's eye
Such sloth and gossiping should spy,—
Charged them that when from foreign court
High envoys came to make report,
To mind their business, trim their light,
And keep their harness clean and tight,—
Nor vainly strive with curious eye
Into his cabinet to pry.—
—Poor Richard or King Solomon
No wiser lectured than Sir Sun,—
"For all, quoth he, who shun their labours,
And leave their work to mind their neighbours,
Will find when call'd to pay the cost,
The substance, in the shadow lost."—