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 he ruled England with main and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintained little right.
And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry, Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury ; How for his house-keeping and high renown, They rode poste for him to fair London towne.
An hundred men the king did heare say, The abbot kept in his house every day; And fifty golde chaynes without any doubt, In velvet coates waited the abbot about.
"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.
"And first," quo' the king, "when I'm in this stead,
With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe.
"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."
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, Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity Ne'er fail in old Scotland !
THERE was (not certaine when) a certaine preacher,
That never learned, and yet became a teacher, Who having read in Latine thus a text Of erat quidam homo, much perplext, He seemed the same with studie great to scan, In English thus, There was a certaine man. But now (quoth he), good people, note you this, He saith there was, he doth not say there is; For in these daies of ours it is most plaine Of promise, oath, word, deed, no man's certaine ; Yet by my text you see it comes to passe That surely once a certaine man there was: But yet, I think, in all your Bible no man Can finde this text, There was a certaine
LOGIC OF HUDIBRAS. FROM "HUDIBRAS," PART 1. CANTO 1.
HE was in logic a great critic, Profoundly skilled in analytic ; He could distinguish and divide A hair, 'twixt south and southwest side; On either which he would dispute, Confute, change hands, and still confute; He'd undertake to prove, by force Of argument, a man's no horse; He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl, And that a lord may be an owl, A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, And rooks committee-men and trustees. He'd run in debt by disputation, And pay with ratiocination: All this by syllogism true,
In mood and figure he would do.
["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 F ward the Sixth. He was a Papist again under Mary, and once re became a Protestant in the reign of Elizabeth. When this scdal 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, When loyalty no harm meant, A zealous high-churchman was I, And so I got preferment.
To teach my flock I never missed: Kings were by God appointed, And lost are those that dare resist Or touch the Lord's anointed.
And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever king shall reign,
Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, sir.
When royal James possessed the crown, And popery came in fashion, The penal laws I hooted down,
And read the Declaration; The Church of Rome I found would fit Full well my constitution;
And I had been a Jesuit But for the Revolution. And this is law, etc.
When William was our king declared, To ease the nation's grievance ; With this new wind about I steered, And swore to him allegiance; Old principles I did revoke,
Set conscience at a distance; Passive obedience was a joke, A jest was non-resistance. And this is law, etc.
When royal Anne became our queen, The Church of England's glory, Another face of things was seen, And I became a Tory; Occasional conformists base,
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, And moderate men looked big, sir, My principles I changed once more, And so became a Whig, sir;
Uncommon things, and rare, were his delight; From musings deep his brain ne'er gotten
Nor ceased he from study, day or night,
Until (advancing onward by degrees)
He knew whatever breeds on earth or air or
He many a creature did anatomize,
Almost unpeopling water, air, and land ; Beasts, fishes, birds, snails, caterpillars, flies, Were laid full low by his relentless hand, That oft with gory crimson was distained ; He many a dog destroyed, and many a cat ; Of fleas his bed, of frogs the marshes drained, Could tellen if a mite were lean or fat,
"Sing, heavenly Muse,
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme;' A shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire.
HAPPY the man, who, void of cares and strife, In silken or in leathern purse retains
A Splendid Shilling: he nor hears with pain New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale ; But with his friends, when nightly mists arise, To Juniper's Magpie, or Town Hall repairs ; Where, mindful of the nymph, whose wanton eye Transfixed his soul, and kindled amorous flames, Chloe or Phyllis, he each circling glass Wisheth her health and joy and equal love. Meanwhile he smokes, and laughs at merry tale, Or pun ambiguous or conundrum quaint.
And read a lecture o'er the entrails of a But I, whom griping penury surrounds, gnat.
And hunger, sure attendant upon want, With scanty offals, and small acid tiff (Wretched repast !) my meagre corpse sustain : In garret vile, and with a warming puff Then solitary walk, or doze at home Regale chilled fingers; or from tube as black Exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming scent. As winter-chimney or well-polished jet,
Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size,
Smokes Cambro-Briton (versed in pedigree, Full famous in romantic tale) when he Sprung from Cadwallador and Arthur, kings
Upon a cargo of famed Cestrian cheese, many a craggy hill and barren cliff,
High overshadowing rides, with a design To wend his wares at the Arvonian mart, Or Maridunum, or the ancient town Yeleped Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil! Whence flow nectareous wines, that well may vie With Massic, Setin, or renowned Falern.
Thus, while my joyless minutes tedious flow, With looks demure, and silent pace, a Dun, Horrible monster! hated by gods and men, To my aerial citadel ascends.†
With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate, With hideous accent thrice he calls; I know The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound, What should I do? or whither turn? Amazed, Confounded, to the dark recess I fly
Of wood-hole; straight my bristling hairs erect Through sudden fear; a chilly sweat bedews My shuddering limbs, and (wonderful to tell!) So horrible he seems! My tongue forgets her faculty of speech; His faded brow
Intrenched with many a frown, and conic beard, And spreading band, admired by modern saints, Disastrous acts forebode; in his right hand
A burlesque imitation of Milton's style. To wit, his garret.
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