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. At this the Tiger shriek'd with rage (The while his Secret'ry the Fox, Took papers from his office box), 'Unhappy land! accursed age!' He cried, 'You seek to murder me With weight of brute Majority; And me not only, but the cause Of Pity, Justice, and the Laws! Take back the charges you impute; It is not me but you who do't. When we controll'd the Sov'reign's land The sun was bright, the breeze was bland. The roving Heifer, free from care, Scarce needed sniff th' untainted air For danger, and the young Gazelle Drank heedless at the hidden well; And even I with happy smile Would lay me down to slumber, while The careless Lambkins gambol'd round, And Peace and Plenty blest the ground! With this fine eloquence inflamed The rival factions loudly named Each other Brute, and (it is said) Would soon have killed each other dead: But now the Boar with growl and grunt And bristling juba leapt to front. 'Accursed both!' he cried. 'What, what! Think you, ye fools, we know you not? Each canting, lying partisan, Who prates of Mercy and the Law With merciless and murd'rous maw, Will always eat us when he can-- Us, who with boon and bloodless toil Seek but the acorns for our spoil-- Were not our eyes and tushes bright To quell such bandits of the night. Why, e'en the Monarch--' Here a roar From all the Council check'd the Boar;