'Tis done! The die indeed is safely cast. And Wisdom smiles, while seated on her throne. 'Twere well to kill two birds with one shrewd fling Of fortune's stone, and thus from grievous ills Which close enwrapped by robes of custom, are Work freedom from the threats of cruel fate. Francos, whose mental woof is frail indeed, Stood for promotion to important post. Which might embarrass all the wheels of state, And so 'twere well within his itching hand To place commission for those distant Isles Where mild efficiency can work no harm. 'Tis strange that Francos in the halls of state So long hath squatted, in a chair too big, But still much gold can smooth a thorny path And work discovery of hidden worth. With modest mental gifts, but gentle mien He ill is fitted for promotion here. But it were matter of but little weight With Quezox as a mentor at his side, What he shall fashion in his pigmy state, For squirt from wisdom's fount can quench each flame. But Quezox? Can I trust this sable knight? He speaketh soft, but lurking in each smile Methinks I spy a double meaning there. 'Twere well to bring Dame Caution to the front And hold this fellow, as he runs, in leash; For he, while fat with wisdom, may of guile Be deeply feeding, and from stomach weak May spew deep discord when we least expect. I have it! well 'tis known that Wisdom's bird, While winging daily flight, hath hovered o'er Our foes politic, and hath often shunned To make her nest in Democratic boughs. 'Twere well to seek from out the tricky foe One who shall balance, like the flying wheel, The various acts of Francos and his crew And so most shrewdly curb the critic tongues That wag within the jaws of foes most keen, Thus hiding well, from all the thoughtless world. The deep intent which labors in our breast. And which in time shall like the bird encased By brittle shell, break forth and fly aloft, Singing to startled worlds sweet freedom's song. But woe is me! My mem'ry playeth false, For he of ponderous girth, in Island home Seeketh to grow more fat on public swill. And he presumeth, justly too, on what His silver tongue did work to boost me on. But still, lean men are best for action keen, For too much fatness burdeneth the mind And speaks in trumpet tones of strong desire For pleasures, and mayhap for cards and wine. And so 'twere best to know this Falstaff not