The Animals Sick of the Plague

The sorest ill that Heaven hath / Sent on this lower world in wrath, -- / The plague (to call it by its name,) / One single day of which / Would Pluto's ferryman enrich, -- / Waged war on beasts, both wild and tame. / They died not all, but all were sick: / No hunting now, by force or trick, / To save what might so soon expire. / No food excited their desire; / Nor wolf nor fox now watch'd to slay / The innocent and tender prey. / The turtles fled; / So love and therefore joy were dead. / The lion council held, and said: / 'My friends, I do believe / This awful scourge, for which we grieve, / Is for our sins a punishment / Most righteously by Heaven sent. / Let us our guiltiest beast resign, / A sacrifice to wrath divine. / Perhaps this offering, truly small, / May gain the life and health of all. / By history we find it noted / That lives have been just so devoted. / Then let us all turn eyes within, / And ferret out the hidden sin. / Himself let no one spare nor flatter, / But make clean conscience in the matter. / For me, my appetite has play'd the glutton / Too much and often upon mutton. / What harm had e'er my victims done? / I answer, truly, None. / Perhaps, sometimes, by hunger press'd, / I've eat the shepherd with the rest. / I yield myself, if need there be; / And yet I think, in equity, / Each should confess his sins with me; / For laws of right and justice cry, / The guiltiest alone should die. ' / 'Sire,' said the fox, 'your majesty / Is humbler than a king should be, / And over-squeamish in the case. / What! eating stupid sheep a crime? / No, never, sire, at any time. / It rather was an act of grace, / A mark of honour to their race. / And as to shepherds, one may swear, / The fate your majesty describes, / Is recompense less full than fair / For such usurpers o'er our tribes.'

Thus Renard glibly spoke, / And loud applause from flatterers broke. / Of neither tiger, boar, nor bear, / Did any keen inquirer dare / To ask for crimes of high degree; / The fighters, biters, scratchers, all / From every mortal sin were free; / The very dogs, both great and small, / Were saints, as far as dogs could be.