nd so hast thou if thou
darest but tell the truth."

"Now, by St. Cicely, may I never touch gittern again," bawled the King
in a fury, "if every note, word, and thought be not mine; may I die in
to-morrow's onslaught if the song be not my song. Sing thyself, Wilfrid
of the Lanthorn Jaws; thou could'st sing a good song in old times." And
with all his might, and with a forced laugh, the King, who loved brutal
practical jests, flung his guitar at the head of Ivanhoe.

Sir Wilfrid caught it gracefully with one hand, and making an elegant
bow to the sovereign, began to chant as follows:--

"KING CANUTE.

"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 sea-shore.

"'Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King with steps
sedate,
Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and goldsticks
great,
Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages,--all the officers of 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 favorite gleemen
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, that 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.'--Some one 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 be, 'over storm and
brine,
I have fought and I have conquered! Where was glory like to mine?'
Lo