THE BOY AND THE BASILISK

Of all the fearsome, ugly things With arms or legs or fins or wings, That haunt the earth or seas or skies, The Basilisk with fiery eyes For fearsomeness took every prize. His home, within a barren glen, Was shunned by beasts and birds and men. It didn’t matter; what cared he For senseless sociability. Daily the Basilisk would take A trip down to a boiling lake Of brimstone which he drank until He had to crawl with care or spill. He thought hot brimstone just the thing With small blue flames for garnishing. He swallowed it without a wink; It served him both for food and drink. Then stretched upon the blistering shore He slept, and lo, a sulphurous snore Resounded loud and long and slow From Zululand to Borneo. None knew who heard this fearsome roar Of what the future held in store. When in his most goodnatured mood, He basked content and filled with food, His mildest glance would kill a tree, Or split a rock or boil the sea. ’Twere wisdom then to shun his path If he were roused to righteous wrath. The Imp who kept the boiling lake Supplied with sulphur, by mistake Sent all the stock another way; The surface settled every day; And then—the lake went wholly dry. It was a fearful hungry cry With which, in no placating mood, The Basilisk set out for food. With anxious haste he left the glen And sought the homes of beasts and men; For, lacking brimstone, he could stand ’Most any food that came to hand. In fact he could, as you can guess, Stand anything but emptyness. For forty feet to left and right He blasted everything in sight. He spied upon a distant steep A peaceful flock of grazing sheep. He hustled up, this monster grim, For mutton was the meat for him! As he approached with hungry gaze, Each sheep burned up with sulphurous blaze; And coming to the place he found Just piles of ashes on the ground. Now when a monster seeking food Finds ashes, the resulting mood Is apt to be a thing to dread; In fact he turned a fiery red. He would have turned white hot but he Feared burning up spontaneously. He could have raged and gnashed his jaws; He could have scratched with all his claws; He had a long and mighty tail, He could have lashed it like a flail. What was the use, no thing in sight Was left whereon to vent his spite. Why should he make a grand-stand play With grand-stands all so far away? The Basilisk was not too dense To temper rage with common sense. He reasoned thus: “Since I destroy By gazing, things I’d fain enjoy, The one conclusion that I find Is—I must starve or go it blind.” He shut his eyelids with a snap And started out across the map. He gobbled here a flock of sheep, And there he found some cows asleep. By working overtime he could Obtain a modest livlihood. Sometimes he made a meal of men, He could get on with eight or ten. A load of wheat, a bale of hay, A bunch of bushes by the way, All these sufficed to partly fill The need of his digestive mill. Sometimes when hunger would abate From fullness, he would meditate; And burning curiosity Would fill his bosom full, for he Was fain to see the landscape where He sought his humble daily fare. But when he chanced to crack his eye All things in sight would blaze and fry; And thus he failed of his desire To see the country free from fire. And also, when he tried to see, No man in range had time to flee. Perhaps ’twere better just to burn And have one’s ashes in an urn, Than to be gobbled up and risk One’s self inside the Basilisk. This Monster with his hungry wrath Left death and ruin in his path; And as he went on pasturing, He neared the palace of the King. The King had heard how, far away, The Basilisk made disarray By skuffing up the landscape’s face And swallowing the populace. If this continued, it was plain He’d have no reason left to reign. Though far above the common mob, He didn’t like to lose his job. ’Twas now a far more serious thing, The populace might lose their King! So he sent out a hurry call; The Council hustled to the hall, And talked and talked and talked some more; And then—a Basiliskian roar Reverberated near and far; It made the palace windows jar! Then silence fell and everyone Forgot to talk and wished to run. (’Tis hoped the reader won’t mind this Irrelevant parenthesis. Each King or Queen or Potentate Or man who runs a town or state, Should have a Basilisk to stalk Around the place for stopping talk.) Responding to the King’s command, A man whose voice could drown a band, Came up and stood before the throne. The King passed out his megaphone And said: “Go forth by every way Unto my kingdom’s bound and say, ‘Hear ye, hear ye, the King declares That he who kills this beast or scares His hungry ugliness away To lands where he’ll be sure to stay, Shall be a knight and have a key That fits the royal treasury.’” The man went forth straightway and tried His voice upon the countryside. The Basilisk, in great surprise, Woke up and almost blinked his eyes; He wished so much to see who kept This racket going while he slept. At last before he noticed it, His eyelids opened just a slit; A little blaze, a little whir— The King had lost his messenger! “Alas the day!” bewailed the King, “I see my finish in this thing. The Council can convene no more For fear the Basilisk may roar. The soldiers are of no avail; You can’t expect them not to quail When thinking of the awful risk In war against the Basilisk.” Just then, a half grown Boy alone Came in and walked up to the throne, And said: “Your Majesty, I heard Your proclamation. I am stirred To undertake to overwhelm The beast that now despoils the realm.” The King considered for a while And raised his hand to hide a smile. But though His Royal Highness smiled, ’Most any plan however wild, Seemed in this dire emergency Worth trying; therefore a decree Went forth at once to authorize This Boy’s unusual enterprise. “Farewell, my Boy,” called out the King, “And may you overcome the thing!” “Prepare” said he, “a burial urn To hold this youth on his return.” The Boy took neither bow nor spear, Nor any other warlike gear. A basket, broom and tin dustpan Were carried by a serving man. Two others carried on before A mirror large as any door. Thus they went forth along the way Frequented by this beast of prey. With mirror set and polished clear, The party waited in the rear. The Monster came; they could not see, But hearing made them wish to flee. He blindly stumbled up before The mirror; then he heard a roar; He stopped; his eyelids slowly raised; His eyes, uncovered, fairly blazed; He saw himself; he winked—too late! His mirrored glance had sealed his fate. A great black smoke, a flame, a boom, Some ashes swept up with a broom! The fearsome Basilisk had died, Against his will, by suicide. His ashes occupied the urn Prepared against the Boy’s return. And when the Boy grew up he chose The Princess for his bride and rose To occupy the throne in state When Basilisks were out of date.