The Wolf And The Shepherds.

[1]      A Wolf, replete      With humanity sweet,      (A trait not much suspected,)      On his cruel deeds,      The fruit of his needs,      Profoundly thus reflected.      'I'm hated,' said he,      'As joint enemy,      By hunters, dogs, and clowns.      They swear I shall die,      And their hue and cry      The very thunder drowns.      'My brethren have fled,      With price on the head,      From England's merry land.      King Edgar came out,      And put them to rout,[2]      With many a deadly band.      'And there's not a squire      But blows up the fire      By hostile proclamation;      Nor a human brat,      Dares cry, but that      Its mother mocks my nation.      'And all for what?      For a sheep with the rot,      Or scabby, mangy ass,      Or some snarling cur,      With less meat than fur,      On which I've broken fast!      'Well, henceforth I'll strive      That nothing alive      Shall die to quench my thirst;      No lambkin shall fall,      Nor puppy, at all,      To glut my maw accurst.      With grass I'll appease,      Or browse on the trees,      Or die of famine first.      'What of carcass warm?      Is it worth the storm      Of universal hate?'      As he spoke these words,      The lords of the herds,      All seated at their bait,      He saw; and observed      The meat which was served      Was nought but roasted lamb!      'O! O!' said the beast,      'Repent of my feast -      All butcher as I am -      On these vermin mean,      Whose guardians e'en      Eat at a rate quadruple! -      Themselves and their dogs,      As greedy as hogs,      And I, a wolf, to scruple!'      'Look out for your wool      I'll not be a fool,      The very pet I'll eat;      The lamb the best-looking,      Without any cooking,      I'll strangle from the teat;      And swallow the dam,      As well as the lamb,      And stop her foolish bleat.      Old Hornie, too, - rot him, -      The sire that begot him      Shall be among my meat!'      Well-reasoning beast!      Were we sent to feast      On creatures wild and tame?      And shall we reduce      The beasts to the use      Of vegetable game?      Shall animals not      Have flesh-hook or pot,      As in the age of gold?      And we claim the right,      In the pride of our might,      Themselves to have and hold?      O shepherds, that keep      Your folds full of sheep,      The wolf was only wrong,      Because, so to speak,      His jaws were too weak      To break your palings strong.