Left kingless by the lion's death,     The beasts once met, our story saith,
    Some fit successor to install.
  Forth from a dragon-guarded, moated place,
  The crown was brought and, taken from its case,
    And being tried by turns on all,
    The heads of most were found too small;
    Some horned were, and some too big;
      Not one would fit the regal gear.
    Forever ripe for such a rig,
    The Monkey, looking very queer,
    Approached with antics and grimaces,
    And, after scores of monkey faces,
  With what would seem a gracious stoop,
  Pass'd through the crown as through a hoop.
    The beasts, diverted with the thing,
    Did homage to him as their king.
    The Fox alone the vote regretted,
    But yet in publi............