The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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KING CANUTE AND HIS NOBLES.
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The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||
KING CANUTE AND HIS NOBLES.
A TALE.
Canute was by his nobles taught to fancy,
That by a kind of royal necromancy,
He had the pow'r Old Ocean to control—
Down rush'd the royal Dane upon the strand.
And issued, like a Solomon, command—
Poor soul!
That by a kind of royal necromancy,
He had the pow'r Old Ocean to control—
Down rush'd the royal Dane upon the strand.
And issued, like a Solomon, command—
Poor soul!
‘Go back, ye waves, you blust'ring rogues!’ quoth he,
‘Touch not your lord and master, Sea,
For by my pow'r almighty, if you do’—
Then staring vengeance—out he held a stick,
Vowing to drive Old Ocean to Old Nick,
Should he ev'n wet the latchet of his shoe.
‘Touch not your lord and master, Sea,
For by my pow'r almighty, if you do’—
Then staring vengeance—out he held a stick,
Vowing to drive Old Ocean to Old Nick,
Should he ev'n wet the latchet of his shoe.
The Sea retir'd—the monarch fierce rush'd on,
And look'd as if he'd drive him from the land—
But Sea, not caring to be put upon,
Made for a moment a bold stand:
And look'd as if he'd drive him from the land—
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Made for a moment a bold stand:
Not only make a stand did Mr. Ocean,
But to his honest waves he made a motion,
But to his honest waves he made a motion,
And bid them give the king a hearty trimming:
The orders seem'd a deal the waves to tickle,
For soon they put his majesty in pickle;
And set his royalties, like geese, a-swimming.
The orders seem'd a deal the waves to tickle,
For soon they put his majesty in pickle;
And set his royalties, like geese, a-swimming.
All hands aloft, with one tremendous roar,
Soon did they make him wish himself on shore;
His head and ears most handsomely they dous'd—
Just like a porpus, with one general shout,
The waves so tumbled the poor king about—
No anabaptist e'er was half so sous'd.
Soon did they make him wish himself on shore;
His head and ears most handsomely they dous'd—
Just like a porpus, with one general shout,
The waves so tumbled the poor king about—
No anabaptist e'er was half so sous'd.
At length to land he crawl'd, a half-drown'd thing,
Indeed more like a crab than like a king,
And found his courtiers making rueful faces:
But what said Canute to the lords and gentry,
Who hail'd him from the water, on his entry,
All trembling for their lives or places?
Indeed more like a crab than like a king,
And found his courtiers making rueful faces:
But what said Canute to the lords and gentry,
Who hail'd him from the water, on his entry,
All trembling for their lives or places?
‘My lords and gentlemen, by your advice,
I've had with Mr. Sea a pretty bustle;
My treatment from my foe not over nice,
Just made a jest for ev'ry shrimp and muscle:
I've had with Mr. Sea a pretty bustle;
My treatment from my foe not over nice,
Just made a jest for ev'ry shrimp and muscle:
A pretty trick for one of my dominion!—
My lords, I thank you for your great opinion.
My lords, I thank you for your great opinion.
You'll tell me, p'rhaps, I've only lost one game,
And bid me try another—for the rubber—
Permit me to inform you all, with shame,
That you're a set of knaves, and I'm a lubber.’
And bid me try another—for the rubber—
Permit me to inform you all, with shame,
That you're a set of knaves, and I'm a lubber.’
Such is the story, my dear Ode,
Which thou wilt bear—a sacred load!
Yet, much I fear, 'twill be of no great use:
Kings are in general obstinate as mules;
Those who surround them, mostly rogues and fools,
And therefore can no benefit produce.
Which thou wilt bear—a sacred load!
Yet, much I fear, 'twill be of no great use:
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Those who surround them, mostly rogues and fools,
And therefore can no benefit produce.
Yet stories, sentences, and golden rules,
Undoubtedly were made for rogues and fools;
But this unluckily the simple fact is;
Those rogues and fools do nothing but admire,
And all so dev'lish modest, don't desire
The glory of reducing them to practice.
Undoubtedly were made for rogues and fools;
But this unluckily the simple fact is;
Those rogues and fools do nothing but admire,
And all so dev'lish modest, don't desire
The glory of reducing them to practice.
The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||