Page:The eighth sin (IA eighthsin00morlrich).pdf/47

 The Emperor. . . Ah! does he meditate A vesper dish of plaintive homely snails Seethed in the Corsican white wine he loves? No, harmless mollusc, no such carnal wish. For lo, he thinks with melancholy pangs How much more pleasant is thy fate than his; No ferment of regrets, no shattered hopes, No griefs of exile (lo, thy modest home Is ever with thee)—thus, in short, he broods. The Emperor would gladly interchange His lot with thine, O unambitious snail. . . (Cetera desunt).

moralizes:—
 * Fortune's coin is fickle: she spins both heads and tails.
 * Even in your glory forbear to sneer at snails!