Such a paragon is woman Letcle crep' up quite undilucose An' peeked on thin the winder An' there sot Stulby all alone with no one high to hender. HUMOROUS POEMS. KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY. FROM "PERCY'S RELIQUES." AN ancient story I'll tell you anon Of a notable prince that was called King John; And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry, An hundred men the king did heare say, 66 'How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee, Thou keepest a farre better house than mee; And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, I feare thou work'st treason against my crown.' "My liege," quo the abbot, "I would it were knowne I never spend nothing, but what is my owne; And I trust your grace will doe me no deere, For spending of my owne true-gotten geere." "Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie. "The seconde, to tell him without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about; And at the third question I must not shrinke, "And first," quo' the king, "when I'm in this But tell him there truly what he does thinke." stead, With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, Secondly, tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride the whole world about; And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think." "Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learne a wise man witt? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And Ile ride to London to answere your quarrel. "Nay, frowne not, if it hath bin told unto me, I am like your lordship, as ever may be ; And they hae ta'en his very heart's blood, And drank it round and round; And still the more and more they drank, Their joy did more abound. John Barleycorn was a hero bold, Of noble enterprise ; For if you do but taste his blood, "T will make your courage rise. Then let us toast John Barleycorn, ROBERT BURNS. OF A CERTAINE MAN. THERE was (not certaine when) a certaine preacher, That never learned, and yet became a teacher, woman. SIR JOHN HARRINGTON. LOGIC OF HUDIBRAS. FROM "HUDIBRAS," PART I. CANTO 1. He was in logic a great critic, A hair, 'twixt south and southwest side; A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, In mood and figure he would do. DR. SAMUEL BUTLER. THE VICAR OF BRAY. ["The Vicar of Bray in Berkshire, England, was Simon Alleyn, or Allen, and held his place from 1540 to 1588. He was a Papist under the reign of Henry the Eighth, and a Protestant under Ed. ward the Sixth. He was a Papist again under Mary, and once more became a Protestant in the reign of Elizabeth. When this scandal to the gown was reproached for his versatility of religious creeds, and taxed for being a turn-coat and an inconstant changeling, as Fuller expresses it, he replied: Not so neither; for if I changed my religion, I am sure I kept true to my principle, which is to live and die the Vicar of Bray.'" - DISRAELI.] IN good King Charles's golden days, To teach my flock I never missed : Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, sir When royal James possessed the crown, And read the Declaration; And I had been a Jesuit When William was our king declared, Set conscience at a distance; When royal Anne became our queen, And I became a Tory ; I blamed their moderation; And thought the Church in danger was, By such prevarication. And this is law, etc. When George in pudding-time came o'er, Some thief, whom a halter will throttle, Some scoundrel has cut off the head of my horse, While I was engaged at the bottle, Which went gluggity, gluggity - glug - glug―glug." The tail of the steed pointed south on the dale, "T was the friar's road home, straight and level; But, when spurred, a horse follows his nose, not his tail, So he scampered due north, like a devil : "This new mode of docking," the friar then said, “I perceive does n't make a horse trot ill; And 't is cheap, - for he never can eat off his head While I am engaged at the bottle, Which goes gluggity, gluggity - glug -glug-glug." The steed made a stop, in a pond he had got, He was rather for drinking than grazing; Quoth the friar, Tis strange headless horses should trot, 66 In the pond fell this son of a pottle; Quoth he, The head 's found, for I'm under his nose, I wish I were over a bottle, Which goes gluggity, gluggity - glug -glug - glug! GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. THE VIRTUOSO.* "Videmus Nugari solitos."— PERSIUS. WHILOM by silver Thames's gentle stream, In imitation of Spenser's style and stanza. |