louder, deeper roar,

And the rapid waves drew nearer,

falling sounding on the shore; Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the king and courtiers bore.

And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay, But alone to praise and worship That which earth and seas obey: And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day. King Canute is dead and gone : Parasites exist alway.

FRIAR'S SONG.

SOME love the matin-chimes, which tell

The hour of prayer to sinner: But better far's the mid-day bell, Which speaks the hour of dinner; For when I see a smoking fish,

Or capon drown'd in gravy, Or noble haunch on silver dish, Full glad I sing my ave.

My pulpit is an alehouse bench,
Whereon I sit so jolly;
A smiling rosy country wench

I kiss her cheek so red and sleek,
My saint and patron holy.
And in her willing ear I speak
I press her ringlets wavy,
A most religious ave.

And if I'm blind, yet heaven is kind,
And holy saints forgiving;
For sure he leads a right good life
Who thus admires good living.
Above, they say, our flesh is air,
Our blood celestial ichor :
Oh, grant! mid all the changes there,
They may not change our liquor!

each year four fairs,

And regular aldermen and regular lord-mayors;

And streets, and alleys, and a bishop's palace;

And a church with clocks for the orthodox

a stout

priest was short and

You've seldom looked on fat of body; such a one;

For, though he fasted thrice in a week, Yet nevertheless his skin was sleek; His waist it spanned two yards about And he weighed a score of stone.

That the lord-mayor made,

666

cry of

Our forefathers in their graves; Fight, ye citizens of Kioff ! Kioff was not made for slaves.'

where it

The Cossack chief, too gem;

cunning to despise it, Said to himself, "Not having ammu

nition

Wherewith to batter the place in proper form,

Some of these nights I'll carry it by storm,

And sudden escalade it or surprise it.

Out rushed an eager troop of the town

élite,

And straightway did begin a gallant

skirmish: