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TO THE DIRECTORS, ETC.
339
Here West’s creative pencil shines,
And paints, in tear-compelling lines,
Polony’s frenzied daughter;
A hang-dog king, and sheepish queen,
And her, who looks as if she’d been
Just fished up from the water!
Thy glories, too, are blazoned there,
King Ben’s first-born immortal heir—
Apparent to the pallet;
Orlando weighs his cons and pros,
Forgetting quite his heedless toes
Are in the Phoca’s gullet.
D.
