The Works of John Hall-Stevenson :: :: University of Virginia Library

A lion, with a wand'ring gout,
Upon his couch or bed lay roaring;
The Courtiers all stood round about,
Every God and aid imploring.
Excruciated like a martyr,
The Doctors brought a thousand slops,
To pave the way for his departure,
They pour'd them down the Lion's chops.
Of all the Courtiers that attended,
Waiting about him in a ring,
The Wolf officiously pretended
To sympathize most with the King.
Whilst we are all in such a fright,
Sir, said the Wolf, it must appear
Extremely wrong, in every light,
That your Attorney is not here.

127

My friend the Fox is much to blame,
Now that your Majesty's so ill,
To roam about killing your game,
Bound by no laws but his own will.
He is the chief lord paramount,
And one would swear your forest-laws
Were only made on his account,
To fill his guts and grease his paws.
A selfishness and inattention,
Which otherwise I should not mention:
When our salvation is at stake,
When every one should watch and pray,
When every eye should be awake,
'Tis highly criminal, I say.
I say, that such a gross neglect,
In one that has the Royal ear,
Cannot but argue disrespect,
The consequence of which I fear.
Such subjects seldom, by design,
Stop at the disrespectful line.
At his return the Fox was told
How handsomely his friend had serv'd him;

128

His spite at me is very old,
Says Master Fox, I have observ'd him.
Only because I go a fowling,
Am rich, and entertain my friends;
Whilst he, for very hunger howling,
Is fit to eat his fingers ends.
Volpone that instant ran to court,
Salutes the Wolf quite frank and hearty;
The Monarch cry'd, Had you good sport,
Sir Reynard? who was of your party?
Your Majesty, says the Attorney,
Is misinform'd about my journey.
That I was hunting is most true,
Making the strictest perquisitions,
Amongst the Magi and Physicians,
To find a remedy for you.
When your Gout's fix'd, or quite remov'd,
Then, Sir, my care and pious zeal,
For you, and for the common-weal,
Will be acknowledg'd and approv'd.
In the mean time I must proceed
To tell my sovereign Lord his cure;

129

His royal heart, I know, will bleed,
I feel myself what he'll endure.
'Tis the advice of a wise Hermit,
A recipe I cannot term it,
Of a profound and learned Boar,
Whose hermitage is in a wood,
Who pores and studies evermore,
And studies only to do good.
A Wolf must presently be got,
In such a case it is no sin,
Flay him alive, and piping hot
Wrap the King up in the Wolf's skin.
Thus, Sir, if you will be directed,
Your pains will quickly be abated,
The morbid matter be ejected,
And health and vigour reinstated.
The Lion, rising from his seat,
Order'd the Wolf to rest content,
To lie down prostrate at his feet,
And patiently wait the event.
That done, he call'd his Surgeons in;
Flay me, said he, that Wolf completely,

130

Flay him alive, but flay him neatly,
Or you may spoil his honour's skin.
The brains of Wolves, as some report,
Are in the grinders of the brute;
Contrivance is not the Wolf's fort;
Beasts without scent ought to hunt mute;
Their howling spreads such an alarm,
They very seldom do much harm.—
Had the Wolf let the Fox alone,
Had he not forc'd him to contrive,
He might have sav'd his skin and bone,
He would not have been flay'd alive.—
To try his cunning and his art,
A would-be minister of State,
Dup'd by his own malicious heart,
Now and then meets with the same fate.
May all that follow the Wolf's trade
In the same coin be always paid!