Nicholas and the British Lion

Czar Nicholas called to North and South,
" Come, see the world's great show!
I'll thrust my head in the Lion's mouth,"
And he laught, " Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho!"
" I am the Lion-Tamer dread —
I make the old brute quail!"
The Lion he shook his incredulous head,
And wagged his dubious tail.

O the Lion lay down in the pride of his might;
'Twas a brave, magnanimous beast!
O the Lion leapt up to his shaggiest height;
The lord of a bloody feast!
Now hold, now hold, thou desperate man,
Or thy braggart cheek may pale;
Terror is towering up in his mane,
And Vengeance tugs at his tail.

Like a statue of Satan, Nick, alas! stood,
And he chuckled in a low lying laugh;
" The world is my Knoutship's whipping-top;
Hot blood for wine I quaff!"
He called to North, he called to South,
" Come, see the old brute quail:
I'll thrust my head in his mumbling mouth:"
The Lion he wagged his tail.

He thrust his head in the Lion's mouth:
Ho! Ho! but the sport was rare!
The Lion smelt blood in the giant's breath,
And his clencht teeth held him there.
Then he cried, from between the gates of death,
With the voice of a Spirit in bale,
" Now God-a-mercy on my soul!
Does the Lion wag his tail?"

Then each one strove to say him Yea,
But each one held his breath;
For the fires of hell lit the Lion's eyes,
His looks communed with Death!
The Giant's heart melts like snow in his mouth,
His voice is a woman's wail;
An Avenger knocks at the door of his life,
In that lash of the Lion's tail.

A low, dread sound, as from underground,
Now signals the realms of the dead;
And the Tamer lies tamed on the earth full-length;
That is, except — a head.
And the poor old beast, at whose aspect mild
The meanest thing dared rail,
Shakes his mane like a Conqueror's bloody plumes.
And — quietly wags his tail.