‘Blind is the goose that play’d the geier
And tried to see the white sun nigher!—
He flapping lies; so shall you lie
And grovel as you think to fly!’
The other cries; whose Nag amazed,
Viewing the winged Stallion, gazed,
Shook out her tail and with a snort,
Approaching in plebeian sort,
Paw’d archly at him. He with scorn
And having too long mildly borne,
Rear’d, spread his wings, and buck’d and neigh’d.
She with the monstrous tone affray’d
Shot forth her rider like a ball;
Who in the mid-air, ere his fall,
The like-projected Poet met.
As when two Suns in furious set
Together dash with whirl and wind,
Their shrieking planets drawn behind;
Or two great Blacks with blinding rage,
Each dragging his black wife, engage,
And clash their pates upon the green
(The fleas being heard to crack between),
The Critic so and Bard pell mell
Fighting concuss’d and fighting fell;
And puppies tug’d their tatters.
Bruises for breakfast got the one;
Black eyes the other, and of Fame none.
They fought it out, and when they’d done
Went home as rough as ratters.
[The Piteous Ewe]
Dedicated to Kings
King Lion yawning at his gates
On deep-empiled mosses, when
The sunset gilt the underwood,
Awaking claw’d in idle mood
The frighten’d dead leaves of his den,
Content; when lo (the Rune relates)
A tiny piercing note was heard.
It was the Mouse (the Rune aver’d)
Who saved the Sov’reign’s honour when
The hunters mesh’d him in the glen.
For that admitted now to cheep
Before the Audience half asleep,
She introduced a weeping Sheep.
‘Sire,’ said the Mouse, ‘with much ado
Thro’ wicked guards I bring to you
This much wrong’d creature to implore
Justice against the evil doer.’
At this, no rhetorician,
The shiv’ring Mutton then began
Of how three lovely Lambkins lost
The Wolf had taken to his den,
Deep-delved in a dreadful glen—
And ah! to her the bitter cost!
One from her side when day was dead
The monster stole. Another took
At gambol in the glassing brook.
The third, the Mother’s last delight,
When now the many-lamped Night
No more, with mystic moon aloft,
Gave shudd’ring shadows to the flowers
And stars of wan irradiance soft
To every dewdrop; but the hours
Of Dawn and Daybreak, Sister Hours,
Twin Lovelinesses, lit the world,
And the confident buds unfurl’d,
He seized with mangling tushes, till
The innocent flower-eyes of the wood,
That wont with early dew to fill,
Grew piteous-wet with tears of blood;
The mother helpless. So he rush’d
With shaggy flanks, and snarling gnash’d
The gripping teeth that gleam’d between
His cruel red lips scarcely seen,
While springing branches clash’d behind,
And left her weeping to the wind.
‘Ho!’ roar’d the Monarch, ‘call the Court!
With this black ruffian I’ll be short.
How often have I giv’n command
The young shall not be taken’—and
His thunder rang across the land,
Until the forest flowers for fear
Shut up their petals not to hear.
Then his gay Herald, the Macaw,
Screams out the hest from hill to haugh,
And from a thousand delled dens
Run forth his frighten’d denizens,
To share the Council, or to know
What makes the Monarch bellow so.
And, as they gather, to and fro
He paces, and his red eyes flash
Enough to turn them all to ash.
Arranged before him in a row
They take their places, high and low.
The Wicked Wolf between his guards,
Two grave and stalwart Leopards,
Stands tip-toe, snarling, and repeating
It was not he who did the eating;
And, with his tail between his legs,
For justice, justice only, begs.
‘You or another,’ roar’d the King,
‘I’ll find the one who did the thing—
But first, Sir Premier, please reply
(A Constitutional Monarch I)
Why do you let my people die?’
At this, with deference, said the Bear,
’Twas not his fault—he was not there.
Still lab’ring in affairs of state
To make the kingdom good and great
(Altho’ the wicked Opposition
Did ever thwart him in his mission),
A sleepless eye he always cast
Upon the future and the past
To frustrate—hard for anyone—
What the Last Government had done.
At present he’d in contemplation
Some mighty measures for the nation—
To bring the Butterflies to terms
By giving franchise to the Worms;
To teach the Gnats to carry logs;
To give self-government to Hogs
Because they had resolved to shirk,
With noble Scorn, ignoble Work;
To succour Wildcats, and to keep
The Wolves secure against the Sheep.
And here he thought he smelt a plot:
This trivial matter, was it not
A little juggle to discredit
This last great measure?—There, he’d said it.
But still his heart bled at the woe
Occasion’d by his Party’s foe.