Fable. the Queen and the Slave

A QUEEN in rich and gay attire, With jewels fine array'd: An abject slave, in rags and mire, Implor'd her kindly aid. She spurn'd her suit, and loath'd the task: So mean to help distress; Although but small, the blessing ask'd; She would not give redress. At length discordant feuds arise, To rebel, all agree; This haughty queen becomes their prize; While ev'ry slave is free. Straight to a prison, sad and proud, Her majesty was sent; When all the rabble, shouted loud, To hear the great event. One day, as pensively she sat, Reflecting on her fate; She saw a dirty ragged hat, With alms, lie at the grate. Eager, she took the gift, though mean, Which did her being save; Ah! little did she think, unseen, The giver was the slave. As time rolls on, and peace returns, The queen, more humble grew; Now to reward the deed, she burns, With cloaths and money too. At length, the guards unbar the gate; Green olive in their hands; And fetch the queen in royal state, To take her new commands. No more she scorns the helpless poor; But is the orphan's friend; Her palace keeps an open door, The wretched to defend.