'Tis seldom falconers contrive To take a new-fledged Hawk alive; But one so taken, to a King Was made a humble offering. The bird, if true the story be, No sooner saw his Majesty, Than straight the Royal nose he clawed, And then the Royal forehead gnawed. "What! clutch a mighty monarch's nose? He wore no crown, then, I suppose?" Had he wore crown and sceptre, too, 'Twere all the same, the creature flew, And King's nose clawed, like common nose. Of course, an uproar loud arose, Such as my verse could scarce describe, From all the startled courtier tribe. The King alone was calm and cool: For calmness is with kings a rule. The bird kept his place, and could not be persuaded To vacate the strange throne he'd so roughly invaded. His master, in vain, with threats and with cries, Showed him his fist, but he would not rise. And it seemed, at length, as though the bird-- Insolent creature!--would cling to that feature Until the next morning's chimes were heard. The greater the efforts to make him let go, The deeper he dug in each keen-pointed toe. At length he relaxed, of his own fickle will; Then the King said to those round about, "Do not kill The poor bird, nor the falconer trouble, for each, in His several way, has obeyed Nature's teaching:-- The one has just proved himself falconer good, And the other a real savage thing of the wood. And I, knowing well that kings clement should be, Grant both full pardon: so let them go free." Of course, the courtiers all declared That such great mercy ne'er was shown; And had the trouble been their own, Nor man nor bird would have been spared. Few kings indeed had acted so, And let the woodman freely go. They 'scaped right well; but boor and bird In nothing in this matter erred, But only this, that, woodland-bred, They had not learnt enough to dread The neighbourhood of courts; but this small lapse May be excused in such poor folk, perhaps. The following story Pilpay places Where Ganges nourishes dusk races; Where man ne'er dares to spill the blood Of any living thing for food; "For how can we tell," they say, "that This creature was not present at The siege of Troy--a hero, then-- And that he'll not be so again? For we Pythagoreans are, And think that different forms we bear At different seasons--pigeon now, And then a hawk, and next a cow. At present we are men; and so Through every change of form we go."