Young Ofeg's Ditties/Ditty 27

​I stood under a large tree that grew in solitude far out in the deserted plain, seeking the coolness of its shade from the summer heat. I was just about to throw myself upon the ground beneath it when I heard a rustling over my head. As I gazed upwards I saw the branches thickly covered with five hundred thousand gleaming objects. At first I thought they were peacocks, but suddenly five hundred thousand mouths began to speak with human voices, and when my eyes became accustomed to the gloom I discovered five hundred thousand women's faces, and I knew that these were the women of the country. Then I doffed my cap and made my most courteous bow, and began to pay my respects thus:—

"Ye hothouse plants and ornamental wenches!"

At this a tremendous cackle arose, and one ​hundred thousand lifted their wings and flapped hurriedly away across the plain.

I continued:—

"Not Solomon in all his splendour was clad as one of ye."

Then the four hundred thousand that remained behind held their heads askew and fanned with their peacocks' tails, and simpered with such syrup and sugar in their gaze that it simply turned up and down in my stomach, and I added:—

"But man cannot bed with a peacock's tail, and it would be just as disgusting as with a . . ."

Then four hundred thousand flapped their wings and three hundred thousand gleaming tails streamed out over the plain.

"But if one is to be found who will stand by my side when the mad bull comes rushing towards us—he who was formerly called Profanum Vulgus, but whom men now dub L'opinion—and who would feel her heart swell with a proud joy at staring into the white of the beast's eyes, so that he would slink aside with shame—if one such is to be found—so . . ."

​But, already, before I had ended my harangue, the tree over my head was vacant, and far down on the horizon a spot glittered in the sunshine, which I supposed was the last hundred thousand peacocks' tails.