Instans Tyrannus

I.     Of the million or two, more or less,     I rule and possess,     One man, for some cause undefined,     Was least to my mind. II.     I struck him, he grovelled of course,     For, what was his force?     I pinned him to earth with my weight     And persistence of hate:     And he lay, would not moan, would not curse,     As his lot might be worse. III.     Were the object less mean, would he stand     At the swing of my hand!     For obscurity helps him and blots     The hole where he squats.     So, I set my five wits on the stretch     To inveigle the wretch.     All in vain! Gold and jewels I threw,     Still he couched there perdue;     I tempted his blood and his flesh,     Hid in roses my mesh,     Choicest cates and the flagons best spilth,     Still he kept to his filth. IV.     Had he kith now or kin, were access     To his heart, did I press:     Just a son or a mother to seize!     No such booty as these.     Were it simply a friend to pursue     Mid my million or two,     Who could pay me in person or pelf     What he owes me himself!     No: I could not but smile through my chafe,     For the fellow lay safe     As his mates do, the midge and the nit,     Through minuteness, to wit. V.     Then a humour more great took its place     At the thought of his face,     The droop, the low cares of the mouth,     The trouble uncouth     Twixt the brows, all that air one is fain     To put out of its pain.     And, no! I admonished myself,     Is one mocked by an elf,     Is one baffled by toad or by rat?     The gravamens in that!     How the lion, who crouches to suit     His back to my foot,     Would admire that I stand in debate!     But the small turns the great     If it vexes you, that is the thing!     Toad or rat vex the king?     Though I waste half my realm to unearth     Toad or rat, tis well worth! VI.     So, I soberly laid my last plan     To extinguish the man.     Round his creep-hole, with never a break     Ran my fires for his sake;     Over-head, did my thunder combine     With my underground mine:     Till I looked from my labour content     To enjoy the event. VII.     When sudden . . . how think ye, the end?     Did I say without friend?     Say rather, from marge to blue marge     The whole sky grew his targe     With the suns self for visible boss,     While an Arm ran across     Which the earth heaved beneath like a breast     Where the wretch was safe prest!     Do you see? Just my vengeance complete,     The man sprang to his feet,     Stood erect, caught at Gods skirts, and prayed!     So, I was afraid!