"Quick they conceive, and quick obey; the beasts 103 Are skinn'd, and drawn, and quarter'd in a trice, But Vulcan leaves Diana to the feasts, And not a wood-nymph consecrates the ice-- Bear is but so-so, when 'tis cook'd the best, But bear just skinn'd and perfectly undrest! "Then I bethink me of the planks and casks 104 Stow'd in the cleft--for fuel _quantum suff_: I draw the dwarfs--sore chattering, from their tasks, Choose out the morsels least obdurely tough; With these I load the Pigmies--bid them follow-- Regain the haven, and review the hollow. "But when those minnow-men beheld the whale 105 It really was a spectacle affecting! They shout, they sob, they leap--embrace the tail, Peep in the jaws; then, round me re-collecting, Draw forth these noselings from their hiding places, Which serve as public speakers to their faces! "While I revolve what this salute may mean, 106 They rush once more upon the poor balaena, Clutch--rend--gnaw--bolt the blubber; but the lean Reject as drying to the duodena! This done,--my broil they aid me to obtain, And, while I eat--the noses go again! "My tale is closed--the grateful Pigmies lead 107 Myself and hound across the ice defiles; Regain their people and recite my deed, Describe the monsters and display the spoils; With royal rank my feats the dwarfs repay, And build the palace which you now survey! "The vanquish'd bears are trophied on the wall; 108 The oil you scent once floated in the whale; I had a vision to illume the hall With lights less fragrant,--human hopes are frail! With cares ingenious from the bruins' fat, I made some candles,--which the ladies ate! "'Tis now your turn to tell the tale, Sir King,-- 109 And by the way our comrade, Lancelot? I hope he found a raven in the ring! _Monstrum horrendum!_--Sire, I question not That in your justice you have heard enough When we get home--to crucify that chough!" "Gawaine," said Arthur, with his sunny smile, 110 "Methinks thy heart will soon absolve the raven, Thy friend had perish'd in this icy isle But for thy voyage to the Viking's haven, In every ill which gives thee such offence, Thou seest the raven, I the Providence!" The Knight reluctant shook his learned head; 111 "So please you, Sire, you cannot find a thief Who picks our pouch, but Providence hath led His steps to pick it;--yet, to my belief, There's not a judge who'd scruple to exhibit That proof of Providence upon a gibbet!