They interrupted his meals he wasn't safe in his bed from

'em

They hung round his neck and heels, and at last His
Majesty fled from 'em.

He put on a leper's cloak (people leave lepers alone),
Out of the window he broke, and abdicated his throne.
All that rapturous day, while his Court and his Ministers
mourned him,

He danced on his own highway till his own Policemen warned him.

Gay and cheerful he ran (lepers don't cheer as a rule)

Till he found a philosopher-man teaching an infant-school. The windows were open wide, the King sat down on the grass, And heard the children inside reciting "Our King is an ass." The King popped in his head, "Some people would call this

treason,

But I think you are right," he said; “Will you kindly give me your reason?”

Lepers in school are as rare as kings with a leper's dress on, But the class didn't stop or stare; it calmly went on with the lesson:

"The wisest thing, we suppose, that a man can do for his land, Is the work that lies under his nose, with the tools that lie under his hand."

The King whipped off his cloak, and stood in his crown before 'em.

He said: "My dear little folk, Ex ore parvulorum—

(Which is Latin for "Children know more than grown-ups would credit")

You have shown me the road to go, and I propose to tread it." Back to his Kingdom he ran, and issued a Proclamation, "Let every living man return to his occupation!"

Then he explained to the mob that cheered in his palace and round it,

"I've been to look for a job, and Heaven be praised I've found it!"

WITH DRAKE IN THE TROPICS

(A. D. 1580)

SOUTH and far south below the Line,
Our Admiral leads us on,

Above, undreamed-of planets shine—
The stars we knew are gone.
Around, our clustered seamen mark
The silent deep ablaze

With fires, through which the far-down shark
Shoots glimmering on his ways.

The sultry tropic breezes fail

That plagued us all day through;
Like molten silver hangs our sail,
Our decks are dark with dew.
Now the rank moon commands the sky,
Bid the watch beware

Ho!

And rouse all sleeping men that lie
Unsheltered in her glare.

How long the time 'twixt bell and bell!
How still our lanthorns burn!

How strange our whispered words that tell

Of England and return!

Old towns, old streets, old friends, old loves,
We name them each to each,

While the lit face of Heaven removes
Them farther from our reach.

Now is the utmost ebb of night
When mind and body sink,
And loneliness and gathering fright
O'erwhelm us, if we think-

Yet, look, where in his room apart,
All windows opened wide,

Our Admiral thrusts away the chart
And comes to walk outside.

Kindly, from man to man he goes,
With comfort, praise, or jest,
Quick to suspect our childish woes,
Our terror and unrest.

It is as though the sun should shine-
Our midnight fears are gone!

South and far south below the Line,
Our Admiral leads us on!

"TOGETHER"

(ENGLAND AT WAR)

WHEN Horse and Rider each can trust the other every

where,

It takes a fence and more than a fence to pound that happy pair;

For the one will do what the other demands, although he is

beaten and blown,

And when it is done, they can live through a run that neither could face alone.

When Crew and Captain understand each other to the core, It takes a gale and more than a gale to put their ship ashore; For the one will do what the other commands, although they are chilled to the bone,

And both together can live through weather that neither could face alone.

When King and People understand each other past a doubt, It takes a foe and more than a foe to knock that country

out;

For the one will do what the other requires as soon as the need is shown,

And hand in hand they can make a stand which neither could make alone!

This wisdom had Elizabeth and all her subjects too,

For she was theirs and they were hers, as well the Spaniard knew;

For when his grim Armada came to conquer the Nation and Throne,

Wny, back to back they met an attack that neither could face alone!

It is not wealth nor talk nor trade nor schools nor even the Vote,

Will save your land when the enemy's hand is tightening round your throat.

But a King and a People who thoroughly trust each other in all that is done

Can sleep on their bed without any dread-for the world will leave 'em alone!

JAMES I

(1603-1625)

THE child of Mary Queen of Scots,
A shifty mother's shiftless son,
Bred up among intrigues and plots,
Learned in all things, wise in none.
Ungainly, babbling, wasteful, weak,
Shrewd, clever, cowardly, pedantic,
The sight of steel would blanch his cheek,
The smell of baccy drive him frantic.

He was the author of his line

He wrote that witches should be burnt; He wrote that monarchs were divine, And left a son who-proved they weren't!

EDGEHILL FIGHT

(CIVIL WARS, 1642)

NAKED and grey the Cotswolds stand

Beneath the autumn sun,

And the stubble-fields on either hand
Where Stour and Avon run.

There is no change in the patient land
That has bred us every one.

She should have passed in cloud and fire
And saved us from this sin

Of war-red war-'twixt child and sire,
Household and kith and kin,

In the heart of a sleepy Midland shire,
With the harvest scarcely in.

But there is no change as we meet at last
On the brow-head or the plain,

And the raw astonished ranks stand fast
To slay or to be slain

By the men they knew in the kindly past
That shall never come again—

By the men they met at dance or chase,
In the tavern or the hall,

At the justice-bench and the market-place,.
At the cudgel-play or brawl-

Of their own blood and speech and race,
Comrades or neighbours all!