The Lion, the Wolf, and the Fox

								
A Lion, sickly, weak, and full of years,
    Desired a remedy against old age
(Impossible's a word no monarch hears
    Without directly flying in a rage).
He sent for doctors--men of draughts and pills;
    From far and near, obedient to the call,
Came makers-up of recipes and pills:
    The Fox alone declined to come at all.
At court the Wolf malignantly referred
To Reynard's absence, whereupon the King--
Whose anger was aroused at what he heard---
    Decided on a rather cruel thing.
He sent a force to smoke sly Reynard out,
    And bring him, willy nilly. When he came,
The Fox could scarcely entertain a doubt
    As to whose tongue had put him thus to shame.
"I greatly fear, your Majesty," said he,
    "You think me rude; you wrong me, if you do:
For I was on a pilgrimage, you see,
    And went to offer up my vows for you.
I scarcely need inform you I have met
    Expert physicians whilst I was away,
And hope to cure you of your sickness yet,
    Which comes from coldness of the blood, they say
You must, sire, skin a Wolf, and wrap the skin
    About you close, to get the body warmed;
And when the heat has kindled up within
    The fires of life again, the cure's performed.
Our friend, I'm sure, will take immense delight
    In lending you his coat; so, take it, sire."
The Lion supped upon the Wolf that night,
    And made the skin a part of his attire.

Courtiers, discretion is your safest plan:
    Malice is sure to find its source again;
And, while you do yourself what good you can,
    Reflect that slandering others is in vain.
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