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 King Robert Of Sicily 
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      Henceforth shalt wear the bells and scalloped cape,
      And for thy counsellor shalt lead an ape;
      Thou shalt obey my servants when they call,
      And wait upon my henchmen in the hall!"
      Deaf to King Robert's threats and cries and prayers,
      They thrust him from the hall and down the stairs;
      A group of tittering pages ran before,
      And as they opened wide the folding-door,
      His heart failed, for he heard, with strange alarms,
      The boisterous laughter of the men-at-arms,
      And all the vaulted chamber roar and ring
      With the mock plaudits of "Long live the King!"
      Next morning, waking with the day's first beam,
      He said within himself, "It was a dream!"
      But the straw rustled as he turned his head,
      There were the cap and bells beside his bed,
      Around him rose the bare, discolored walls,
      Close by, the steeds were champing in their stalls,
      And in the corner, a revolting shape,
      Shivering and chattering sat the wretched ape.
      It was no dream; the world he loved so much
      Had turned to dust and ashes at his touch!
      Days came and went; and now returned again
      To Sicily the old Saturnian reign;
      Under the Angel's governance benign
      The happy island danced with corn and wine,
      And deep within the mountain's burning breast
      Enceladus, the giant, was at rest.
      Meanwhile King Robert yielded to his fate,
      Sullen and silent and disconsolate.
      Dressed in the motley garb that Jesters wear,
      With look bewildered and a vacant stare,
      Close shaven above the ears, as monks are shorn,
      By courtiers mocked, by pages laughed to scorn,
      His only friend the ape, his only food
      What others left--he still was unsubdued.
      And when the Angel met him on his way,
      And half in earnest, half in jest, would say,
      Sternly, though tenderly, that he might feel
      The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel,
      "Art thou the King?" the passion of his woe
      Burst from him in resistless overflow
      And, lifting high his forehead he, would fling
      The haughty answer back, "I am, I am the King!"
      Almost three years were ended; when there came
      Ambassadors of great repute and name
      From Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine,
      Unto King Robert, saying that Pope Urbane
      By letter summoned them forthwith to come
      On Holy Thursday to his city of Rome.
      The Angel with great joy received his guests,
      And gave them presents of embroidered vests,
      And velvet mantles with rich ermine lined,
      And rings and jewels of the rarest kind.
      Then he departed with them o'er the sea
      Into the lovely land of Italy,
      Whose loveliness was more resplendent made
      By the mere passing of that cavalcade,
      With plumes, and cloaks, and housings, and the stir
      Of jewelled bridle and of golden spur.
      And lo! among the menials, in mock state,
      Upon a piebald steed, with shambling gait,
      His cloak of fox-tails flapping in the wind,
      The solemn ape demurely perched behind,
      King Robert rode, making huge merriment
      In all the country towns through which they went.
      The Pope received them with great pomp and blare
      Of bannered trumpets, on Saint Peter's square,
      Giving his benediction and embrace,
      Fervent, and full of apostolic grace.
      While with congratulations and with prayers
      He entertained the Angel unawares,
      Robert, the Jester, bursting through the crowd,
      Into their presence rushed, and cried aloud,
      "I am the King! Look, and behold in me
      Robert, your brother, King of Sicily!
      This man, who wears my semblance to your eyes,
      Is an impostor in a king's disguise.
      Do you not know me? does no voice within
      Answer my cry, and say we are akin?"
      The Pope in silence, but with troubled mien,
      Gazed at the Angel's countenance serene;
      The Emperor, laughing, said, "It is strange sport
      To keep a madman for thy Fool at court!"
      And the poor, baffled Jester in disgrace
      Was hustled back among the populace.
      In solemn state the Holy Week went by,
      And Easter Sunday gleamed upon the sky;
      The presence of the Angel, with its light,
      Before the sun rose, made the city bright,

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