Days came and went; and now returned again
  To Sicily the old Saturnian reign;
  Under the angel’s governance benign
  The happy island danced with corn and wine,
  And deep within the mountain’s burning breast
  Enceladus, the giant, was at rest. 
  Meanwhile King Robert yielded to his fate,
  Sullen and silent and disconsolate. 
  Dressed in the motley garb that jesters wear,
  With looks bewildered and a vacant stare,
  Close shaven above the ears, as monks are shorn,
  By courtiers mocked, by pages laughed to scorn,
  His only friend the ape, his only food
  What others left,—­he still was unsubdued. 
  And when the angel met him on his way,
  And half in earnest, half in jest, would say,
  Sternly, though tenderly, that he might feel
  The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel,
  “Art thou the king?” the passion of his woe
  Burst from him in resistless overflow,
  And lifting high his forehead, he would fling
  The haughty answer back, “I am, I am the king!”

  Almost three years were ended; when there came
  Ambassadors of great repute and name
  From Valmond, emperor of Allemaine,
  Unto King Robert, saying that Pope Urbane
  By letter summoned them forthwith to come
  On Holy Thursday to his city of Rome. 
  The angel with great joy received his guests,
  And gave them presents of embroidered vests,
  And velvet mantles with rich ermine lined,
  And rings and jewels of the rarest kind. 
  Then he departed with them o’er the sea
  Into the lovely land of Italy,
  Whose loveliness was more resplendent made
  By the mere passing of that cavalcade,
  With plumes, and cloaks, and housings, and the stir
  Of jewelled bridle and of golden spur.

  And lo! among the menials, in mock state,
  Upon a piebald steed, with shambling gait,
  His cloak of fox-tails flapping in the wind,
  The solemn ape demurely perched behind,
  King Robert rode, making huge merriment
  In all the country towns through which they went.

  The pope received them with great pomp, and blare
  Of bannered trumpets, on Saint Peter’s square,
  Giving his benediction and embrace,
  Fervent, and full of apostolic grace. 
  While with congratulations and with prayers
  He entertained the angel unawares,
  Robert, the jester, bursting through the crowd,
  Into their presence rushed, and cried aloud: 
  “I am the king!  Look and behold in me
  Robert, your brother, king of Sicily! 
  This man, who wears my semblance to your eyes,
  Is an impostor in a king’s disguise. 
  Do you not know me? does no voice within
  Answer my cry, and say we are akin?”
  The pope in silence, but with troubled mien. 
  Gazed at the angel’s countenance serene;
  The emperor, laughing, said, “It is strange sport
  To keep a madman for thy fool at court!”
  And the poor, baffled jester in disgrace
  Was hustled back among the populace.