Fete at Caserta. The Queen of Naples Receives

But tickets, of course, at the door of the theatre
Scrutinized by a Lord of the Court. What a blaze
Of wax candles reflected in gilding, a haze

Of cross-lights like a halo! Is this not Caserta?

The pit is a ball-room, the stage a bright stair
Of musicians in livery; the dazzle becomes
An effulgent wax sun where the great kettle-drums

Crown the apex. Can eyesight endure such a glare?

The Queen! Hist! The Queen! Though she's wearing a mask,

No one can mistake her. She approaches to ask

If the strangers liked France, if they'd met the Dauphine?

At midnight exactly, proclaimed by six flutes,
Enter soldiers with plates and a great galantine

Of hot macaroni, with cream and iced fruits.

But the Queen sups on two dishes only, and these

Are prepared by her own special cooks -- Viennese.