The Origin Of All-Fool Day, Which Happened In The Isle Of Chiekock, On The 7th Of The Ni-Ada Poem by Anonymous British

Ye sportive nymphs who on Parnassus play,
Though old as ages, - young and ever gay!
O hither wing from Parna's flow'ry side,
Through aerial oceans cleave the liquid tide:
Feed, feed your vot'ry, while he sounds the strings,
With gen'rous draughts from Helicon's pure springs!
In days of yore as orient legends sing,
In Chiekock's isle there reign'd a righteous king,
The heav'nly virtues in his heart were stor'd,
His subjects lov'd him, and the gods ador'd;
But still, alas! (no modern deeds to tell)
Infernal fiends with heavenly minds rebel.
Th' enchanter vile, Ciongock, had decreed,
No branch should rise of their illustrious breed;
His queen was barren in her blooming prime,
And doom'd to suffer for her grandsire's crime.
At length a heavenly goddess intervenes,
Pussa, the fair, a friend to virtuous queens.
This th' enchanter heard, and, raging wild,
Denounc'd destruction on the queen and child.
The blue-eyed elves all hailed the happy morn
With joys extatic, when the prince was born;
Their comely queen thrice kiss'd the babe, and cries,
'Reign like thy sire, be virtuous, just, and wise.'
But soon dark gloom obscur'd the blissful day;
High o'er the sofa upon which she lay,
The fiend appear'd, a sable cloud within,
With voice terrific and malicious grin,
He awful roar'd 'Deluded woman, know,
That now and henceforth, I will be his foe!
Her trembling soul coul not sustain the fright,
But sought the regions of eternal light!
The guardian fair in spite of vengeance smil'd,
Vow'd to protect and educate the child;
She kiss'd, she taught, and led the boy to fame;
He hopeful grew, I'Scamma was his name;
With guardian care she reared the youth alone,
And plac'd him safe on his paternal throne;
Then scal'd a cloud, ethereal, blue, and bright,
And to celestial worlds betook her flight.
Within the entrance of his gloomy cell,
Respiring vengeance sat the fiend of hell;
High in the air the goddess queen he spies,
And shouts of joy re-echo through the skies,
'Now, now's the time!' and then, on triumph bent,
A work of mischief was his dire intent.
'Yes, feeble mortal! yes, I'Scamma, know,
That now and henceforth I will be thy foe!
The pow'r thou hast shall soon evade thy sight,
Like fleeting visions of the gloomy night,'-
Th' enchanter thus, with voice of thunder cried;
Three times he laugh'd, and three times nature sigh'd!
Then he rose up, through aerial fields he flew
His beaming car, which four grey dragons drew;
His awful flight inspired the earth with dread!
And wild confusion o'er the land was spread!
The roses wither'd and the lilies died,
And Flora's train no healing balm supplied;
No tuneful notes through fragrant valleys rung,
For terror chain'd each feather'd warbler's tongue
Like Sol's quick rays, the moving clouds he drives,
And o'er the temple's glittering spires arrives;
He curb'd his steeds, and gnash'd his teeth with rage,
And dared the youthful monarch to engage.
I'Scamma scorn'd his rising fame to stain,
And vow'd to meet him, fearless, on the plain,
He hail'd fair Pussa and the heavenly choir
And she appear'd, in clouds of flaming fire;
With her right hand Ciongock she defied,
And with her left a talisman she tried;
On it 'Mamu Amuda' dreadful shone,
He saw it and fell headlong from his throne;
But soon arose, and with audacious might,
Defied the guardian queen to single fight.
Again on high the talisman she held;
Again th' enchanter's vile intent was quell'd
Yet hopeful still, and still her pow'r to mock,
Transformed himself to an o'erwhelming rock;
But, helpless he! Mamu Amuda's glow
The rock dissolv'd like show'rs of vernal snow,
At last a mighty flood he form'd, and, sad to say!
He, with himself, I'Scamma swept away!
Fair Pussa saw, but saw, alas! too late!
And all the Island mourn'd their monarch's fate!
His soul celestial sought the high abodes;
Pussa enroll'd him in the list of gods,
And stemm'd the roaring torrent for his sake;
And there I'Scamma stands, a stagnant lake.
Thus fell the best of princes from his throne,
But why it happen'd, know the gods alone.
On that dread day a hallow'd fast was made,
And yearly tributes to his mem'ry paid;
The parents sent their lovely offspring swift,
To seek their god, and ask a yearly gift;
But him they found not, yet, for his dear sake,
Cast stones of vengeance in the stagnant lake.
'Go seek I'Scamma,' says the virtuous wife,
'He'll tell thee if I love thee as my life.'
The husband goes, but him he cannot find,
Yet seeks the lake to ease his vengeful mind.
'Go seek I'Scamma of immortal fame,'
The mother says, 'Thy husband he will name;'
The daughter goes;- no soothing power appears,
And soon returns dissolv'd in doubtful tears.
So did those customs to his mem'ry rise,
From babes that lisp, to sages who are wise.
From Chiekock's Isle, told by some sacred man,
The story got abroad, and reach'd Japan,
From thence by story-tellers it was hurl'd
Into these islands of the western world,
Till in its progress through the modern school,
The hallow'd form were turn'd to ridicule;
And thus the legend of two thousand years,
The cause of April All-fool Day appears.