The Brazen Bull Poem by Ima Ryma

The Tyrant ordered a machine
Be built to burn in such a way,
That fear and pain forged 'twixt and 'tween,
Roasting the victim in do slay.
And thus the Brazen Bull did be,
Made out of bronze to hold the heat,
Inside with screams of agony,
Until the body burned complete.
The Brazen Bull, the Tyrant's friend
Turned to ashes the Tyrant's foe.
Ever tyranny, ever end,
For tyrants come and tyrants go.

Where oh where could the Tyrant hide?
The Brazen Bull beckoned inside.