King Canute was weary-hearted; he had reigned for years a score,
Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and
robbing more;
And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild seashore.

'Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King with
steps sedate,
Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and
gold-sticks great,
Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages-all the officers od state.

Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose to pause.
If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers dropped
their jaws;
If to laugh the King was minded, out they burst in loud hee-haws.

But that day a something vexed him, that was clear to old
and young:
Thrice his Grace had yawned at table, when his favourite
gleeman sung.
Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he bade her
hold her tongue.

"Something ails my gracious master," cried the Keeper
of the Seal.
"Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served at dinner, or the veal?"
"Psha!" exclaimed the angry monarch, "Keeper, 'tis not that
I feel."

"Tis the heart and not the dinner, fool, 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."-Someone 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 countries echoed: "Where is glory like to thine?"

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

"Live these fifty years!" the Bishop roared, with actions made to suit.
"Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak of
King Canute!
Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his majesty will do't."

"Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the hill,
And, the while he slew the foemen, bid the silver moon
stand still?
So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his sacred will."

"Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop?" Canute cried;
"Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly ride?
If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command the tide."

"Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the sign?"
Said the bishop, bowing lowly, "Land and sea, my Lord,
are thine."

Canute turned towards the ocean-"Back!" he said,
"thou foaming brine!"

But the sullen ocean answered with a 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 wor he from that day.