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,
He made his wife and queen.

Her father, King Lear, this while
With his two daughters stay'd:
Forgetful of their promis'd loves,
Full soon the same decay'd;
And living in Queen Regan's court,
The eldest of the twain,

She took from him his chiefest means,

And most of all his train.

For whereas twenty men were wont
To wait with bended knee,
She gave allowance but to ten,

And after scarce to three;

Nay, one she thought too much for him;
So took she all away,

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?
I'll go unto my Gonorell:
My second child, I know,
Will be more kind and pitiful,
And will relieve my woe.'

Full fast he hies then to her court;
Who, when she heard his moan,
Return'd him answer, that she griev'd
That all his means were gone;
But no way could relieve his wants;
Yet, if that he would stay
Within her kitchen, he should have
What scullions gave away.

When he had heard with bitter tears,
He made his answer then;
'In what I did, let me be made
Example to all men.

I will return again,' quoth he,
'Unto my Regan's court;
She will not use me thus, I hope,

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
The woful king did hie,

That in her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by.

But there of that he was denied,
Which she had promised late;
For once refusing, he should not
Come after to her gate.

Thus 'twixt his daughters for relief
He wander'd up and down;
Being glad to feed on beggar's food,
That lately wore a crown.

And calling to remembrance then
His youngest daughter's words,
That said the duty of a child
Was all that love affords ;
But doubting to repair to her
Whom he had banish'd so,
Grew frantic mad; for in his mind

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
He made his hourly moan,

Till hills and woods and senseless things
Did seem to sigh and groan.

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,
To repossess King Lear

And drive his daughters from their thrones
By his Cordelia dear.

Where she, true-hearted noble queen,

Was in the battle slain ;

Yet he, good king, in his old days,
Possest his crown again.

But when he heard Cordelia's death,
Who died indeed for love

Of her dear father, in whose cause
She did this battle move,
He swooning fell upon her breast,
From whence he never parted:

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
A butterfly (but newly born)
Sat proudly perking on a rose,
With pert conceit his bosom glows;
His wings (all glorious to behold)
Bedropt with azure, jet, and gold,
Wide he displays; the spangled dew
Reflects his eyes and various hue.

His now forgotten friend, a snail,
Beneath his house, with slimy trail,

Crawls o'er the grass, whom when he spies,
In wrath he to the gardener cries:

'What means yon peasant's daily toil,
From choking weeds to rid the soil?
Why wake you to the morning's care?
Why with new arts correct the year?
Why grows the peach's crimson hue?
And why the plum's inviting blue?
Were they to feast his taste design'd,
That vermin of voracious kind!
Crush then the slow, the pilfering race,
So purge thy garden from disgrace.'

'What arrogance!' the snail replied; 'How insolent is upstart pride!

Hadst thou not thus, with insult vain
Provok'd my patience to complain,
I had conceal'd thy meaner birth,
Nor trac'd thee to the scum of earth;
For scarce nine suns have wak'd the hours,
To swell the fruit, and paint the flowers,
Since I thy humbler life survey'd,

In base, in sordid guise array'd.

I own my humble life, good friend ;
Snail was I born and snail shall end.
And what's a butterfly? At best
He's but a caterpillar drest;
And all thy race (a numerous seed)

Shall prove of caterpillar breed.'

7. Gay