THE COMPANIONS OF ULYSSES.
Pass on. Content and free I dwell
Within these woods, and flatly say,
I scorn mankind, and here shall stay."
The Prince the Wolf accosted then,
And, lest refusal came again,
Said, "Comrade, I'm in deep distress,
For there's a lovely shepherdess
Who echo wearies out with cries
Against your wolfish gluttonies.
In former days your task had been
Her sheep from every wolf to screen:
You led an honest life. Oh, come,
And once more manhood's form resume."
"No, no," replied the Wolf; "I'll stay:
A ravenous wolf you call me. Pray,
If I the sheep had eaten not,
Would they have 'scaped your spit and pot?
If I were man, should I be less
A foe unto the shepherdess?
For just a word, or slight mistake,
You men each other's heads will break;
And are you not, then, wolfish, too?
I've weighed the case, and hold it true
That wolves are better far than man:
I'll be a Wolf, then, whilst I can."
To all, in turn, Ulysses went,
And used this selfsame argument.
But all, both great and small, refused
To be of beast-life disabused.
To range the woods, to feed and love,
To them seemed all things else above.
"Let others reap the praise," they cried,
"Of noble deeds: we're satisfied."
And so, fast bound in Pleasure's chains,
They thought that free they roamed the plains.
O Prince! I much had wished to choose
A tale which might teach and amuse.
The scheme itself was not so bad;
But where could such a tale be had?
I pondered long: at length the fate
Of Circe's victims struck my pate.
Such victims in this world below
Were always, and are even now:
To punish them I will not strike,
But hold them up to your dislike.
