The Patriot, on his way to the scaffold, surrounded by a hooting crowd, remembers how, just a year ago, the same people had been mad in their enthusiasm for him. Anything at all, however extravagant, would have been too little for them to do for him (stanza 2; cf. Gal. iv. 15, 16); but now——! The fourth stanza is very powerful. All have gone who can, to be ready to see the execution; only the “palsied few,” who cannot, are at the windows to see him pass. In the last stanza the thought of a more sudden contrast still is presented. A man may drop dead in the midst of a triumph, to find that in its brief plaudits he has his reward, while a vast account stands against him at the higher tribunal. Far better die amid the execrations of men and find the contrast reversed. It is “an old story,” and therefore general; but one naturally thinks of such cases as Arnold of Brescia, or the tribune Rienzi. A higher Name than these need not be introduced here, in proof of the people’s fickleness! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ INSTANS TYRANNUS. I. Of the million or two, more or less, I rule and possess, One man, for some cause undefined, Was least to my mind. II. I struck him, he grovelled of course— For, what was his force? I pinned him to earth with my weight And persistence of hate; And he lay, would not moan, would not curse, As his lot might be worse. III. “Were the object less mean, would he stand “At the swing of my hand! “For obscurity helps him, and blots “The hole where he squats.” So, I set my five wits on the stretch To inveigle the wretch. All in vain! Gold and jewels I threw Still he couched there perdue; I tempted his blood and his flesh, Hid in roses my mesh, Choicest cates and the flagon’s best spilth Still he kept to his filth. IV. Had he kith now or kin, were access To his heart, did I press Just a son or a mother to seize! No such booty as these. Were it simply a friend to pursue ’Mid my million or two, Who could pay me, in person or pelf, What he owes me himself! No: I could not but smile through my chafe: For the fellow lay safe As his mates do, the midge and the nit, —Through minuteness, to wit. V. Then a humour more great took its place At the thought of his face: The droop, the low cares of the mouth, The trouble uncouth ’Twixt the brows, all that air one is fain To put out of its pain. And, “no!” I admonished myself, “Is one mocked by an elf, “Is one baffled by toad or by rat? “The gravamen’s in that! “How the lion, who crouches to suit “His back to my foot, “Would admire that I stand in debate! “But the small turns the great “If it vexes you,—that is the thing! “Toad or rat vex the king? “Though I waste half my realm to unearth “Toad or rat, ’tis well worth!” VI.