CANUTE

A pleasant music floats along the Mere,

From Monks in Ely chanting service high,

While-as Canute the King is rowing by:

“My Oarsmen,” quoth the mighty King, “draw near,

“That we the sweet song of the Monks may hear! "

He listens ( all past conquests and all schemes

Of future vanishing like empty dreams )

Heart-touched, and haply not without a tear.

The Royal Minstrel, ere the choir is still,

While his free Barge skims the smooth flood along,

Gives to that rapture an accordant Rhyme.

O suffering Earth! be thankful; sternest clime

And rudest age are subject to the thrill

Of heaven-descended Piety and Song.