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 !

ROBERT BURNS.

OF A CERTAINE MAN.

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

woman.

SIR JOHN HARRINGTON.

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.

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 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;