Now, have you ever known or heard
Of biped, from his sphere
Descending, like that silly bird,
To buy a fish so dear?
[THE CAGED LION.]
Lion, like a captive king,
Sad behind thy prison grate,
Monarch, how I long to bring
Back to thee thy lost estate!
Where thy royal kindred live—
Where thy native sky is warm,
Sufferer, how I long to give
Freedom to that noble form!
Gladly would I know thee there,
Bounding over Afric’s plain,
Wildly, with the desert air
Wafting wide thy flowing mane.
Are there words that can describe
What thou wast, at liberty,
When “The Lion of the tribe
Of Judah” names his type in thee?
Here, beneath thy keeper’s hand,
Where the blasts of winter freeze,
Think’st thou of that palmy land,
Thy mild country o’er the seas?
Seen but through thy prison bars,
Round thee set so strong and thick,
Do not sun, and moon, and stars
Make thy cowering spirit sick?