Classic Poem

Peter illustrateth the Folly of Passion by a most apposite Tale.

A Knight lived in the West, not long ago;
Like Knights in general, not o'erwise, I trow.
This Knight's great Barn was visited by Rats;
In spite of poison, gins, and owls, and cats:
Like Millers, taking toll of the sweet corn,
Caroused they happily from night to morn.

Lo, waxing wroth, that neither gins nor cats,
Nor owls nor poison could destroy the Rats;
" I'll nab them by a scheme, by Heavens," quoth he:
So of his neighbourhood he roused the mob,
Farmers and farmers' boys, to do this job;
His servants too of high and low degree;
And eke the tribes of dog, by sound of horn;
To kill the Rats that dared to taste the corn.

This done, the Knight, resolved with godlike ire,
Ran to his kitchen for a stick of fire,
From whence intrepid to the Barn he ran;
Much like the Macedonian, and fair Punk,
Who, at Persepolis so very drunk,
Did with their links the mighty ruin plan.

Now 'midst the dwelling flew the blazing stick:
Soon from the flames rush'd forth the Rats so thick;
Men, dogs, and bats, in furious war unite.
The conquer'd Rats lie sprawling on the ground;
The Knight, with eyes triumphant, stares around,
Surveys the carnage, and enjoys the sight.

Not even Achilles saw so blest his blade
Dismiss whole legions to th'infernal shade.
But, lo! at length, by this rat-driving flame,
Burnt was the corn; the walls down thundering came;
The meaning of it was not far to learn:
When, turning up those Billiard-balls his Eyes,
That held a pretty portion of surprise,
" Zounds, what a blockhead! I have burnt the barn."