At first Astutio, wrong but very wise,10
Disdain'd the Hydra as a fabled creature,
The vague invention of a Poet's lies,
Unknown to Pliny and the laws of Nature—
Nor till the fact was past philosophizing,
Saith he, "That's Hydra, there is no disguising!
"A Hydra, Sire, a Hercules demands;11
So if not Hercules, assume his vizard."
The advice is good—the Vandal wrings his hands,
Kicks out the Sage—and rushes to a wizard.
The wizard waves his wand—disarms the sentry
And (wondrous man) enchants the mob—with entry.
Thus fell, though no man touch'd him, Ludovick,12
Tripp'd by the slide of his own slippery feet.
The crown cajoled from Fortune by a trick,
Fortune, in turn, outcheated from the cheat;
Clapp'd her sly cap the glittering bauble on,
Cried "Presto!"—raised it—and the gaud was gone.
Ev'n at the last, to self and nature true,13
No royal heart the breath of danger woke;
To mean disguise habitual instinct flew,
And the king vanish'd in a craftsman's cloak.
While his brave princes scampering for their lives,
Relictis parmulis—forgot their wives!
King Mob succeeding to the vacant throne,14
Chose for his ministers some wild Chaldeans,—
Who told the sun to close the day at noon,
Nor sweat to death his betters the plebeians;
And bade the earth, unvex'd by plough and spade,
Bring forth its wheat in quarterns ready made.
The sun refused the astronomic fiat;15
The earth declined to bake the corn it grew;
King Mob then order'd that a second riot
Should teach Creation what it had to do.
"The sun shines on, the earth demands the tillage—
Down Time and Nature, and hurrah for pillage!"
Then rise en masse the burghers of the town;16
Each patriot breast the fires of Brutus fill;
Gentle as lambs when riot reach'd the crown,
They raged like lions when it touch'd the till.
Rush'd all who boasted of a shop to rob,
And stout King Money soon dethroned King Mob.
This done, much scandalised to note the fact17
That o'er the short tyrannic rise the tall,
The middle-sized a penal law enact
That henceforth height must be the same in all;
For being each born equal with the other,
What greater crime than to outgrow your brother?
Poor Vandals, do the towers, when foes assail,18
So idly soar above the level wall?
Harmonious Order needs its music-scale;
The Equal were the discord of the All.
Let the wave undulate, the mountain rise;
Nor ask from Law what Nature's self denies.
O vagrant Muse, deserting all too long,19
Freedom's grand war for frenzy's goblin dream,
The hour runs on, and redemands from song,
And from our Father-land the mighty theme.
The Pale Horse rushes and the trumpets swell,
King Crida's hosts are storming Carduel!