Until at last in famous France She gentler fortunes found; Though poor and bare, yet she was deem'd The fairest on the ground: Where, when the king her virtues heard, And this fair lady seen, With full consent of all his court, Her father, King Lear, this while She took from him his chiefest means, And most of all his train. For whereas twenty men were wont And after scarce to three; Nay, one she thought too much for him; In hope that in her court, good king, He would no longer stay. 'Am I rewarded thus,' quoth he, 'In giving all I have Unto my children, and to beg For what I lately gave? Full fast he hies then to her court; When he had heard with bitter tears, I will return again,' quoth he, But in a kinder sort.' Where when he came she gave command To drive him thence away : When he was well within her court (She said) he would not stay. Then back again to Gonorell That in her kitchen he might have But there of that he was denied, Thus 'twixt his daughters for relief And calling to remembrance then He bore the wounds of woe: Which made him rend his milkwhite locks And tresses from his head, And all with blood bestain his cheeks, With age and honour spread. To hills and woods and watery founts Till hills and woods and senseless things Even thus possest with discontents, He passed o'er to France, In hopes from fair Cordelia there To find some gentler chance ; Most virtuous dame! which when she heard Of this her father's grief, As duty bound she quickly sent Him comfort and relief: And by a train of noble peers, In brave and gallant sort, She gave in charge he should be brought To Aganippus' court; Whose royal king with noble mind So freely gave consent To muster up his knights at arms, To fame and courage bent. And so to England came with speed, And drive his daughters from their thrones Where she, true-hearted noble queen, Was in the battle slain ; Yet he, good king, in his old days, But when he heard Cordelia's death, Of her dear father, in whose cause But on her bosom left his life, That was so truly hearted. Old Ballad CXXXVI THE BUTTERFLY AND THE SNAIL As in the sunshine of the morn His now forgotten friend, a snail, Crawls o'er the grass, whom when he spies, 'What means yon peasant's daily toil, 'What arrogance!' the snail replied; 'How insolent is upstart pride! Hadst thou not thus, with insult vain In base, in sordid guise array'd. I own my humble life, good friend ; Shall prove of caterpillar breed.' 7. Gay |