Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge)/Recantation - Illustrated in the Story of the Mad Ox

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

RECANTATION.

 

Illustrated in the Story of the Mad Ox.

 

I.

An Ox, long fed with musty hay,

And work'd with yoke and chain,
Was turn'd out on an April day,
When fields are in their best array,
And growing grasses sparkle gay
At once with Sun and rain.

II.

The grass was fine, the Sun was bright:

With truth I may aver it;
The Ox was glad, as well he might,
Thought a green meadow no bad sight,
And frisked, to shew his huge delight,
Much like a beast of spirit.

III.

Stop, Neighbours! stop! why these alarms?

The Ox is only glad—
But still they pour from cots and farms—
Halloo! the parish is up in arms,
(A hoaxing-hunt has always charms)
Halloo! the Ox is mad.

IV.

The frighted beast scamper'd about;

Plunge! through the hedge he drove—
The mob pursue with hideous rout,
A bull-dog fastens on his snout;
He gores the dog, his tongue hangs out;
He's mad! he's mad, by Jove!

V.

"Stop, Neighbours, stop!" aloud did call

A sage of sober hue.
But all, at once, on him they fall,
And women squeak and children squall,
"What! would you have him toss us all?
"And damme! who are you?"

VI.

Oh! hapless sage, his ears they stun,

And curse him o'er and o'er—
"You bloody-minded dog! cries one,
"To slit your windpipe were good fun,—
"'Od blast you for an ^[1]impious son
"Of a presbyterian w—re."

VII.

"You'd have him gore the parish-priest,

"And run against the altar—
"You fiend!" The sage his warnings ceas'd,
And north and south, and west and east,
Halloo! they follow the poor beast,
Mat, Dick, Tom, Bob and Walter.

VIII.

Old Lewis, ('twas his evil day)

Stood trembling in his shoes;
The Ox was his—what could he say?
His legs were stiffened with dismay,
The Ox ran o'er him mid the fray,
And gave him his death's bruise.

IX.

The frighted beast ran on—but here,

⁠(No tale, tho' in print, more true is)
My Muse stops short in mid career—
Nay, gentle reader! do not sneer!
I cannot choose but drop a tear,
⁠A tear for good old Lewis!

X.

The frighted beast ran through the town;

⁠All follow'd, boy and dad,
Bull-dog, Parson, Shopman, Clown:
The Publicans rush'd from the Crown,
"Halloo! hamstring him! cut him down!"
⁠They drove the poor Ox mad.

XI.

Should you a Rat to madness teize,

⁠Why e'en a Rat may plague you:
There's no Philosopher but sees
That Rage and Fear are one disease—
Though that may burn and this may freeze,
⁠They're both alike the Ague.

XII.

And so this Ox, in frantic mood,

⁠Faced round like any Bull—
The mob turn'd tail, and he pursued,
Till they with heat and fright were stewed,
And not a chick of all this brood
⁠But had his belly full.

XIII.

Old Nick's astride the beast, 'tis clear—

⁠Old Nicholas, to a tittle!
But all agree, he'd disappear,
Would but the Parson venture near,
And through his teeth,^[2] right o'er the steer,
⁠Squirt out some fasting-spittle.

XIV.

Achilles was a warrior fleet,

⁠The Trojans he could worry—
Our Parson too was swift of feet,
But shew'd it chiefly in retreat:
The victor Ox scour'd down the street,
⁠The mob fled huriy-scurry.

XV.

Through gardens, lanes and fields new plough'd,

⁠Through his hedge, and through her hedge,
He plung'd and toss'd and bellow'd loud,
Till in his madness he grew proud,
To see this helter-skelter crowd,
⁠That had more wrath than courage.

XVI.

Alas! to mend the breaches wide

⁠He made for these poor ninnies,
They all must work, whate'er betide,
Both days and months, and pay beside,
(Sad news for Avarice and for Pride)
⁠A sight of golden guineas!

XVII.

⁠But here once more to view did pop

The man that kept his senses;
And now he cried—"Stop, neighbours! stop;
The Ox is mad! I would not swop,
No! not a school-boy's farthing-top,
⁠For all the parish-fences."

XVIII.

"The Ox is mad! Ho! Dick, Bob, Mat!"

⁠What means this coward fuss?
"Ho! stretch this rope across the plat—
'Twill trip him up—or if not that,
Why, damme! we must lay him flat—
⁠See, here's my blunderbuss.

XIX.

"A lying dog! just now he said

⁠The Ox was only glad—
Let's break his presbyterian head!"
"Hush!" quoth the sage, "you've been misled;
No quarrels now—let's all make head—
⁠You drove the poor Ox mad."

XX.

As thus I sat, in careless chat,

⁠With the morning's wet newspaper,
In eager haste, without his hat,
As blind and blundering as a bat,
In came that fierce Aristocrat,
⁠Our pursy Woollen-draper.

XXI.

And so my Muse perforce drew bit;

And in he rush'd and panted—
"Well, have you heard?" No, not a whit.
"What, ha'nt you heard?" Come, out with it!—
"That Tierney votes for Mister Pitt,
"And Sheridan's recanted!"

1. One of the many fine words which the most uneducated had about this time a constant opportunity of acquiring, from the sermons in the pulpit and the proclamations in the———corners.
2. According to the superstition of the West-Countries, if you meet the Devil, you may either cut him in half with a straw, or force him to disappear by spitting over his horns.