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("Un lion avait pris un enfant.") {XIII.} A Lion in his jaws caught up a child— Not harming it—and to the woodland, wild With secret streams and lairs, bore off his prey— The beast, as one might cull a bud in May. It was a rosy boy, a king's own pride, A ten-year lad, with bright eyes shining wide, And save this son his majesty beside Had but one girl, two years of age, and so The monarch suffered, being old, much woe; His heir the monster's prey, while the whole land In dread both of the beast and king did stand; Sore terrified were all. By came a knight That road, who halted, asking, "What's the fright?" They told him, and he spurred straight for the site! The beast was seen to smile ere joined they fight, The man and monster, in most desperate duel, Like warring giants, angry, huge, and cruel. Beneath his shield, all blood and mud and mess: Whereat the lion feasted: then it went Back to its rocky couch and slept content. Sudden, loud cries and clamors! striking out Qualm to the heart of the quiet, horn and shout Causing the solemn wood to reel with rout. Terrific was this noise that rolled before; It seemed a squadron; nay, 'twas something more— A whole battalion, sent by that sad king With force of arms his little prince to bring, Together with the lion's bleeding hide. Which here was right or wrong? Who can decide? Have beasts or men most claim to live? God wots! He is the unit, we the cipher-dots. Ranged in the order a great hunt should have, They soon between the trunks espy the cave. "Yes, that is it! the very mouth of the den!" The trees all round it muttered, warning men; Still they kept step and neared it. Look you now, Company's pleasant, and there were a thou— Good Lord! all in a moment, there's its face! Frightful! they saw the lion! Not one pace Further stirred any man; but bolt and dart Made target of the beast. He, on his part, As calm as Pelion in the rain or hail, Bristled majestic from the teeth to tail, And shook full fifty missiles from his hide, But no heed took he; steadfastly he eyed, And roared a roar, hoarse, vibrant, vengeful, dread, A rolling, raging peal of wrath, which spread, Making the half-awakened thunder cry, "Who thunders there?" from its black bed of sky. This ended all! Sheer horror cleared the coast; As fogs are driven by the wind, that valorous host Melted, dispersed to all the quarters four, Clean panic-stricken by that monstrous roar. Then quoth the lion, "Woods and mountains, see, A thousand men, enslaved, fear one beast free!" He followed towards the hill, climbed high above, Lifted his voice, and, as the sowers sow The seed down wind, thus did that lion throw His message far enough the town to reach: "King! your behavior really passes speech! Thus far no harm I've wrought to him your son; But now I give you notice—when night's done, I will make entry at your city-gate, Bringing the prince alive; and those who wait To see him in my jaws—your lackey-crew— Shall see me eat him in your palace, too!" Next morning, this is what was viewed in town: Dawn coming—people going—some adown Praying, some crying; pallid cheeks, swift feet, And a huge lion stalking through the street. It seemed scarce short of rash impiety To cross its path as the fierce beast went by. So to the palace and its gilded dome With stately steps unchallenged did he roam; He enters it—within those walls he leapt! No man! For certes, though he raged and wept, His majesty, like all, close shelter kept, Solicitous to live, holding his breath Specially precious to the realm. Now death Is not thus viewed by honest beasts of prey; And when the lion found him fled away, Ashamed to be so grand, man being so base, He muttered to himself, "A wretched king! 'Tis well; I'll eat his boy!" Then, wandering, Lordly he traversed courts and corridors, Paced beneath vaults of gold on shining floors, Glanced at the throne deserted, stalked from hall To hall—green, yellow, crimson—empty all! Rich couches void, soft seats unoccupied! And as he walked he looked from side to side To find some pleasant nook for his repast, Since appetite was come to munch at last The princely morsel!—Ah! what sight astounds That grisly lounger? In the palace grounds An alcove on a garden gives, and there A tiny thing—forgot in the general fear, Lulled in the flower-sweet dreams of infancy, Bathed with soft sunlight falling brokenly Through leaf and lattice—was at that moment waking; A little lovely maid, most dear and taking, The prince's sister—all alone, undressed— She sat up singing: children sing so best. Charming this beauteous baby-maid; and so The beast caught sight of her and stopped— And then Entered—the floor creaked as he stalked straight in. Above the playthings by the little bed The lion put his shaggy, massive head, Dreadful with savage might and lordly scorn, More dreadful with that princely prey so borne; Which she, quick spying, "Brother, brother!" cried, "Oh, my own brother!" and, unterrified, She gazed upon that monster of the wood, Whose yellow balls not Typhon had withstood, And—well! who knows what thoughts these small heads hold? She rose up in her cot—full height, and bold, And shook her pink fist angrily at him. Whereon—close to the little bed's white rim, All dainty silk and laces—this huge brute Set down her brother gently at her foot, Just as a mother might, and said to her, "Don't be put out, now! There he is, dear, there!" EDWIN ARNOLD, C.S.I.

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