 | The poetical works (1906) |  |
Canto the xiii
The Mule no sooner saw himself aloneThan he prick'd up his Ears—and said “well done!
At least, unhappy Prince, I may be free—
No more a Princess shall side-saddle me.
O King of Othaietè—tho' a Mule
‘Aye every inch a King’—tho' ‘Fortune's fool’—
Well done—for by what Mr. Dwarfy said
I would not give a sixpence for her head.”
Even as he spake he trotted in high glee
To the knotty side of an old Pollard tree
And rub['d] his sides against the mossed bark
Till his Girths burst and left him naked stark
Except his Bridle—how get rid of that,
Buckled and tied with many a twist and plait?
At last it struck him to pretend to sleep
And then the thievish Monkeys down would creep
And filch the unpleasant trammels quite away.
No sooner thought of than adown he lay,
352
And whom they thought to injure they befriended.
They hung his Bridle on a topmost bough
And of[f] he went, run, trot, or anyhow—
Brown is gone to bed—and I am tired of rhyming...
| The poetical works (1906) | |