Monarchs should have some check-strings; but he had
No curb upon his will—no, not a bit—
Wherefore he did not reign well—and full glad
His slaves had been to hang him—but they falter'd
And let him live unhang'd—and still unalter'd,
IV.
Until he got a sage-bush of a beard,
Wherein an Attic owl might roost—a trail
Of bristly hair—that, honor'd and unshear'd,
Grew downward like old women and cow's tail;