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    ODE: THE DAY AT HOME

Was there ever such a mess!
Just when I stay at home,
To find that such a press
Of visitors must come!

Boy, — go bar the door;
My neighbor now prepares
With all her tribe and more
To climb my private stairs!

What then? — You cannot close —
The guests are now too near?
Dona Tecla and all those
Girls of hers I hear!

A coach has stopped below,
I hear it at the door.
'Tis Don Venancio
Who comes — that famous bore!

Then too comes in Don Luke
With stately twists and bows;
Don Mauro with his hook
Out for mitres for his brows;

Don Genaro, Don Zoile
And Dona Basilissas
And all their nurseries vile
Of masters and of misses!

What stupid compliments,
What speeches they are aping!
Be Mount Torozos bent
To shield me in escaping!

And now they settle down
(And seats are not enough!)
To nibble cakes and drown
Their thirst with sticky stuff.

The Devil! — I, who lead
A solitary life,
A bachelor, indeed,
Without a child or wife;

I who of wedded bliss
Resigned the calm delight,—
Must I give way to this
Invading insect blight?

And must I too submit
To this uproar and gabble,
And here in patience sit
Amid this endless rabble!—

But see, they all arise
And leave me in a hurry!—
Each fan, each bonnet flies;
And hats and hoop skirts scurry!—

Acknowledgments and thanks
For this your cordial visit—
Obliged — but should your ranks
Return, — I'll dodge and miss it!—

So they have peeped their measure,—
And they have had a chance—
Now if it be their pleasure
Let them go out and dance!



Leandro Fernández de Moratín
Translation by Thomas Walsh


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