SELECT POETRY

Down to the ocean’s sounding shore
The proud procession came,
To see its billows’ wild uproar
King Canute’s power proclaim ;
Or, at his high and dread command,
In gentle murmurs kiss the strand.

Not so, thought he, their noble king,
As his course he sea-ward sped ;—
And each base slave like a guilty thing,
Hung down his conscious head ;—

He knew the ocean’s Lord on high !
They, that he scorned their senscless 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,

All but the winds and waves were still.

Louder the stormy blast swept by,
In scorn of his idle word ;

The briny deep its waves tossed high,
By his mandate undeterred,

As threatening, in their angry play,

To sweep both king and court away,

The monarch with upbraiding look,
Turned to the courtly ring; "

But none the kindling eye could brook
Even of his earthly king ;

For in that wrathful glance they see

A mightier monarch wronged than he !