POEMS OLD AND NEW

" JTis the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my

rest impair :
Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know

no care ?
Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary."—Some one

cried, " The king's arm-chair ! "

• •

Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my lord the

keeper nodded,
Straight the king's great chair was brought him, by

two footmen able-bodied ;
Languidly he sank into it : it was comfortably

wadded.

" Leading on my fierce companions," cried he, " over

storm and brine,
I have fought and I have conquered ! Where was,

glory like to mine ? "
Loudly all the courtiers echoed : " Where is glory

like to thine ? "

" What avail me all my kingdoms ? Weary am I now
and old ; 10

Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead
and cold ;

Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the
silent mould !"

; Nay, I feel," replied King Canute, " that my end
is drawing near."
: Don't say so," exclaimed the courtiers (striving
each to squeeze a tear).
: Sure your grace is strong and lusty, and may live
this fifty year."
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