They told him e'en the mighty deep He smiled contemptuously, and cried, Down to the ocean's sounding shore King Canute's power proclaim; Not so, thought he, their noble king, He knew the ocean's Lord on high! They, that he scorned their senseless lie. His throne was placed by ocean's side, He lifted his sceptre there; Bidding, with tones of kingly pride, The waves their strife forbear :--- And, while he spoke his royal will, Louder the stormy blast swept by, The briny deep its waves tossed high, The monarch with upbraiding look, But none, the kindling eye could brook For in that wrathful glance they see Canute thy regal race is run; Its meek, unperishing renown, The Persian, in his mighty pride, But it was worthier far of thee To know thyself, than rule the sea! BERNARD BARTON. THE CURFEW-SONG OF ENGLAND. HARK! from the dim church tower, Sadly 'twas heard by him who came From the fields of his toil at night, And who might not see his own hearth-flame In his children's eyes make light Sternly and sadly heard, As it quench'd the wood-fires glow, Which had cheer'd the board with the mirthful word, And the red wine's foaming flow! Until that sullen boding knell Woe for the pilgrim then, In the wild deer's forest far! No cottage lamp, to the haunts of men Might guide him, as a star. And woe for him whose wakeful soul, With lone aspirings fill'd, Would have lived o'er some immortal scroll, While the sounds of earth were still'd ! And yet a deeper woe For the watcher by the bed, Where the fondly loved in pain lay low, |