At length his forfeit life hath paid.
See on the wall his wings displayed,
Here nailed, a terror to his kind.
My fowls shall future safety find,
My yard the thriving poultry feed,
And my barn’s refuse fat the breed.’
“‘Friend,’ says the Sage, ‘the doom is wise—
For public good the murderer dies.
But if these tyrants of the air
Demand a sentence so severe,