And, when our captors bowed their foreheads low,
Obsequious to the throne,
I stood upright,
And gazed my loathing on that listless form--
The gay, embroidered robe,
The golden cap, that prankt the crispèd locks,
The short, square beard, new-oiled and barbered--
But, in a flash,
A heavy blow
Fell on my head,