Thence the strain
               Shall rise again,
               And soar amain,
          Up to the lofty palace gate
     Where mighty Apollo sits in state
     In Jove’s abode, with his ivory lyre,
     Hymning aloud to the heavenly choir,
     While all the gods shall join with thee
     In a celestial symphony.

       THE BUILDING OF CLOUD-CUCKOO-TOWN

     From ’The Birds ’:  Frere’s Translation

[Enter Messenger, quite out of breath, and speaking in short snatches.]

Messenger—­Where is he?  Where?  Where is he?  Where?  Where is he?—­The president Peisthetairus?

Peisthetairus [coolly]—­Here am I.

Mess. [in a gasp of breath]—­Your fortification’s finished.

Peis.—­Well! that’s well.

Mess.—­A most amazing, astonishing work it is! 
              So that Theagenes and Proxenides
              Might flourish and gasconade and prance away
              Quite at their ease, both of them four-in-hand,
              Driving abreast upon the breadth of wall,
              Each in his own new chariot.

Peis.—­You surprise me.

Mess.—­And the height (for I made the measurement myself)
              Is exactly a hundred fathoms.

Peis.—­Heaven and earth! 
              How could it be? such a mass! who could have built it?

Mess.—­The Birds; no creature else, no foreigners,
              Egyptian bricklayers, workmen or masons. 
              But they themselves, alone, by their own efforts,—­
              (Even to my surprise, as an eye-witness)
              The Birds, I say, completed everything: 
              There came a body of thirty thousand cranes,
              (I won’t be positive, there might be more)
              With stones from Africa in their craws and gizzards,
              Which the stone-curlews and stone-chatterers
              Worked into shape and finished.  The sand-martens
              And mud-larks, too, were busy in their department,
              Mixing the mortar, while the water-birds,
              As fast as it was wanted, brought the water
              To temper and work it.

Peis. [in a fidget]—­But who served the masons
              Who did you get to carry it?

Mess.—­To carry it? 
              Of course, the carrion crows and carrying pigeons.

Peis. [in a fuss, which he endeavors to conceal]—­
              Yes! yes! but after all, to load your hods,
              How did you manage that?

Mess.—­Oh, capitally,
              I promise you.  There were the geese, all barefoot
              Trampling the mortar, and when all was ready
              They handed it into the hods, so cleverly,
              With their flat feet!