greatpoets

The King's Picture

The king from the council chamber
Came, weary and sore of heart;
He called to Iliff, the painter,
And spoke to him thus apart:
I'm sickened of the faces ignoble,
Hypocrites, cowards, and knaves;
I shall shrink in their shrunken measure,
Chief slave in a realm of slaves.

( Paint me a true man's picture/ Gracious, and wise, and good... )