 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
6. VOLUME VI
375
THE SLEEPING LION
A Bull, the angel of the wild,A Bull as gentle as a child,
A pleasant mannered Bull that lay
Upon a hill at break of day
And munched his cud, observed a gleam
Of crimson on the world's extreme
Where the Dawn-Spirit had released
His flaring banner in the east.
The Bull, a flame in either eye
That frightened the offending sky,
Rose, pawed the earth until his skin
Was dun with dust from tail to chin,
And lowering his horrid brows,
Roared out: “How dare you thus arouse
The sleeping lion in my breast!”
Then, like a storm from out the west,
He blindly charged, and without check,
Went o'er a cliff and broke his neck!
A Tiger, calm, serene, sedate,
Administered on his estate,
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Remarked with a contented smile:
“That sleeping lion in his breast
Was just an ass that needed rest.”
IN DOGLAND
A Man who fared along a road
That passed a yellow Dog's abode
Incurred a paralyzing bite
From that incarnate appetite,
Creation's joy and hope and crown—
The pride and terror of the town!
The Man in anger went before
The nearest Magistrate and swore
A warrant out for the Dog's Master,
As author of the dire disaster.
Haled into court, that citizen
Employed attorneys, eight or ten,
Who as one man arose, and O,
The kind of things they said were so!
All honest souls, a crowd immense,
Were witnesses for the defense,
And when they came to testify
Of that bad plaintiff—my, O my!
Defendant rose and gravely swore
The Dog had never bit before.
“How could I know, till he transgressed,
The serpent lurking in his breast?”
And all the people cried: “That's so!
How could he know? How could he know?”
That passed a yellow Dog's abode
Incurred a paralyzing bite
From that incarnate appetite,
Creation's joy and hope and crown—
The pride and terror of the town!
The Man in anger went before
The nearest Magistrate and swore
A warrant out for the Dog's Master,
As author of the dire disaster.
Haled into court, that citizen
Employed attorneys, eight or ten,
Who as one man arose, and O,
The kind of things they said were so!
All honest souls, a crowd immense,
Were witnesses for the defense,
And when they came to testify
Of that bad plaintiff—my, O my!
Defendant rose and gravely swore
The Dog had never bit before.
“How could I know, till he transgressed,
377
And all the people cried: “That's so!
How could he know? How could he know?”
That won—Defendant left the place
On shoulders of the populace.
The miserable Plaintiff slunk
Away and soon was dead or drunk,
Tradition says not which; I think
Death is inferior to drink.
But that's irrelevant: what now
Concerns us is the bow and wow
Made by the snapdogs of that region
(Their name, tradition says, was Legion)
When, with a sound of trumpets blown,
The great decision was made known
From Sweetpotatoville to Pone.
They said, the dogs did, that the law
Was good—pro bonos mores (Latin
That dogs and lawyers mostly chat in).
They said, the while their bosoms burned
With ardor, that their souls discerned
“The dawn of a new era,” which
They promptly “hailed” at concert pitch!
On shoulders of the populace.
The miserable Plaintiff slunk
Away and soon was dead or drunk,
Tradition says not which; I think
Death is inferior to drink.
But that's irrelevant: what now
Concerns us is the bow and wow
Made by the snapdogs of that region
(Their name, tradition says, was Legion)
When, with a sound of trumpets blown,
The great decision was made known
From Sweetpotatoville to Pone.
They said, the dogs did, that the law
Was good—pro bonos mores (Latin
That dogs and lawyers mostly chat in).
They said, the while their bosoms burned
With ardor, that their souls discerned
“The dawn of a new era,” which
They promptly “hailed” at concert pitch!
As dogs had now the legal right
To trouble Man for one free bite
'Twas voted that they would. They did:
That land, from Glorypool to Squid,
With snarl and yelp and snap of teeth
(Flashing like falchions from the sheath)
Was vocal till each cur beneath
The sun had fleshed his maiden fang
In some one of the human gang!
True, all the dogs whose heads were frosted
With age had long before exhausted
Their lawful privilege, and these
Died of chagrin among their fleas;
But there were pups enough at heel
Of every human leg to deal
Out floods of hydrophobia's sap
And wash that country from the map.
To trouble Man for one free bite
'Twas voted that they would. They did:
378
With snarl and yelp and snap of teeth
(Flashing like falchions from the sheath)
Was vocal till each cur beneath
The sun had fleshed his maiden fang
In some one of the human gang!
True, all the dogs whose heads were frosted
With age had long before exhausted
Their lawful privilege, and these
Died of chagrin among their fleas;
But there were pups enough at heel
Of every human leg to deal
Out floods of hydrophobia's sap
And wash that country from the map.
A PAIR OF OPPOSITES
A Fabulist of wide repute,Whose laugh was loud and wit was mute—
Whose grammar had the grace of guess,
And language an initial S—
Whose tireless efforts, long sustained,
Proved him far better brawned than brained,
Once met a Toad. “My son,” said he,
“'Twould jar you to get onto me!
You're swell, but I'm the dandy guy
That slings the gilt-edged lullaby.
Dost tumble? What I'm shouting, see,
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“That compliment,” the Toad replied,
“Is grateful to my foolish pride:
It seems to mean that though I hop
Right awkwardly I sometimes stop.”
The gods, whom long the Fabulist
Had plagued (the Toad had only hissed)
Emitted loud Olympian snorts
Of joy to hear the King of Warts
Administer a mental pang
To the Protagonist of Slang.
So Jove appointed him to be
Chief Jester by divine decree,
And ne'er another joke made he.
THE DEGENERATE
Two Horses that had always chewedThe bitter grain of servitude—
Between their meals had ever felt
The bit in mouth and lash on pelt—
Once, as they drew the creaking wain,
Saw a wild Zebra of the plain,
Unknown to halter, stall or cage.
Cried one: “Good Lord! this is an age
Of miracle!” “Not so,” said t'other,
“That vision is a horse-and-brother.
380
He has an equine soul within,
Albeit Law, with stern reproof,
Has laid on him the heavy hoof.
Those stripes but show he's ‘serving time’
In punishment of some great crime.”
The other thought an hour's span,
Then said: “Perhaps he stole a man.”
THE VAIN CAT
Remarked a Tortoise to a Cat:“Your speed's a thing to marvel at!
I saw you as you flitted by,
And wished I were one-half so spry.”
The Cat said, humbly: “Why, indeed
I was not showing then my speed—
That was a poor performance.” Then
She said exultantly (as when
The condor feels his bosom thrill
Remembering Chimborazo's hill,
And how he soared so high above,
It looked a valley, he a dove):
“'Twould fire your very carapace
To see me with a dog in chase!”
Its snout in any kind of swill,
Pride, like a pig, will suck its fill.
381
A SOCIALIST
“You're keeping me poor—I have only this egg.All rich men are rascals!” said Impycu Dregg.
Couponicus Pigg said: “Your thanks, then, are due
To me for not making a rascal of you.”
But Impycu Dregg all the same flung his egg,
Which burst in the wig of Couponicus Pigg.
THE CO-DEFENDANTS
A Jackass by a Lion chasedHad made so admirable haste
That his pursuer, far behind,
Had, long before, his hope resigned
And gone to sleep; but still poor Jack
Pressed on, nor ventured to look back.
“Why, what's the matter?” cried a Steer,
Obstructing him in his career.
“Out of the way and let us pass!”
Roared the still apprehensive Ass.
“‘Us’? Why, my friend,” the Steer replied,
“I see but you, and none beside.”
“I'm but the foremost,” answered Jack—
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Behold, he clawed me here and here;
See how he tore my precious ear!
Believe me, sir, your count's at fault—
No one escapes that cat's assault.”
To let them limp along, the Steer
Backed off in wonder and in fear.
The Ass evanished like a flame,
But not another donkey came.
Then said the Steer: “I've saved—well done!—
All jackasses beneath the sun,
Rolled into one, rolled into one.”
IN CONSEQUENCE OF APPLAUSE
“What makes you so round?”Said an indolent Hound
To a Tiger that looked
As if he had booked
All the pilgrims of earth
For an inside berth.
Said the Tiger: “I strayed
To the edge of a glade
Where a man on a stump,
Sleek, handsome and plump,
His notions expounded
383
Him there with their ears
Erected like spears
For the words that he flung
From his flickering tongue.”
“Yes, yes, my good cat,
But what of all that?
That statesman, I swear,
Had enough and to spare
Of the breezes that blow
Out of heaven, but, O
'Tis remarkably odd he
Could blow up your body
And make you so poddy.”
“By-and-by the man stopped,
And his forehead he mopped,
And his scalp—which was bald.
Then somebody called
For three cheers—” “Hully Gee!
I'm beginning to see.”
“And a tiger. That's me.”
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |