Fables in Song :: :: University of Virginia Library

The lordly Lion Haroun one day
Beneath a shady wood,
A solitary lounger lay
In meditative mood.
From public cares retired,
But not from care releast,
Of life, and all things, tired,
The noble-minded beast
Oft sadly sigh'd, the while he eyed
The summer grass and flowers;
And, sighing, heard each happy bird
That piped from pleasant bowers
To gratulate its brooding mate
On June's unclouded hours.

127

Then forth there came, from out of a vine
That round an elm did range
Her garlands green and globes of wine,
A little creature strange.

It was of the Monarch's million
Loyal subjects, doubtless, one.
But never before that minute
Had the Monarch noticed the little creature;
Uncouth of form, minute of feature,
And yet, with something in it
That seem'd to strike and harmonise
With the cause of the Monarch's moody sighs;
And the Lion's eye-glance tarried
On the pinnacled house, with its painted face,
Which, at a slow and a solemn pace,
The Snail on his shoulders carried.

Doubtless that tiny householder
Guess'd not what kingly eye
Did on his movements then confer
Its royal scrutiny.

For on, with smooth important motion,
He paced, as though he had a notion
That he was lord of all the way.
His house upon his back he bore,
And on his forehead standards four:
Erect and proud were they.

128

To him (thus travelling leisurely,
Unconscious of the Lion's eye)
Across the path made haste.
Another, smaller, wayfarer,
Swifter-footed, swarthier,
And slim about the waist.
Then these two mutes, perceiving each
The other, in their native speech
Did one another hail,
And with familiar salutation
Fell into close confabulation,
The Emmet and the Snail.

Haroun, the Lion, understood
(As all good sovereigns do, or should)
The dialects and languages
Of his provincial subjects fully.
And, glad to escape the weary stress
Of thoughts morose and melancholy
Which did just then his mind oppress,
He hail'd with silent satisfaction
The chance of finding some distraction
In listening to the chatterings
Of such small folk, on such small things
As cabbage-leaves and pips of pine,
And weather-changes, foul or fine;
In short each ordinary matter
Of such folk's ordinary chatter.