You shall die!" With indignation which nothing could foil,
He picked up his ax and the dastard was dead.
Two strokes made three snakes of the coil–
A body, a tail, and a head.
The pestilent thirds writhed together to rear
But of course could no longer adhere.
All should practice charity
Toward all? I've thrown some light on this.
Ingrates, I say with emphasis,
Will always die in misery.
THE LION, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX (Book Eight, III)
A careworn lion, all bones and pained in each paw,
Craved a cure lest his disabilities progress.
(Better not gainsay a king or you are an outlaw. )
In this case, to relieve his distress,
The king had practitioners of any description
Come to attend him from every direction
Till all varieties of cure in the world had been brought
To afford the king what he sought.
But the fox paid no heed and sat at home, safely denned.
In paying court, the wolf said the fox had meant to offend,
Slandering the poor beast and creating a stir.
Plucked forth in embarrassment, the fox dared not demur
So at last drew near and said what he had to say,
Aware that it was the wolf who was the slanderer.
He plead, "Sire, though I have been called malingerer
As
one the wolf wished to betray,
My service to you has been delayed
Since vows for you had to be paid,
Involving a hard journey day after day.
Wherever my loyalty led,
I told surgeon and sage that you barely can prick up an ear
Lest your vestige of vigor should fail you some night.
