Not long with this endeavour
The king had travelled round,
Ere, to his royal pleasure,

A charming spot he found;
But an ancient widow's cabin
Was standing on the ground.

"Ah, here," exclaimed the monarch,
"Is just the proper spot,
If this woman would allow me
To remove her little cot!"
But the beldam answered plainly,
She had rather he would not!

"Within this lonely cottage,
Great monarch, I was born;
And only from this cottage
By death will I be torn :
So spare it, in your justice,
Or spoil it in your scorn!"

Then all the courtiers mocked her,
With cruel words and jeers :-
"Tis plain her royal master

She neither loves nor fears; We would knock her ugly hovel About her ugly ears!

"When ever was a subject

Who might the king withstand?
Or deem his spoken pleasure
As less than his command?
Of course he'll rout the beldam,
And confiscate her land!"

But, to their deep amazement,
His Majesty replied:

"Good woman, never heed them,
The king is on your side:
Your cottage is your castle,
And here you shall abide.

"To raze it in a moment,
The power is mine, I grant;
My absolute dominion

A hundred poets chant ;
For being Khan of Persia,
There's nothing that I can't!"
('Twas in this pleasant fashion
The mighty monarch spoke;
For kings have merry fancies
Like other mortal folk:
And none so high and mighty
But loves his little joke.)

"But power is scarcely worthy
Of honour or applause,
That in it's domination

Contemns the widow's cause,

Or perpetrates injustice

By trampling on the laws.

"That I have wronged the meanest
No honest tongue may say;
So bide you in your cottage,
Good woman, while you may;
What's yours by deed and purchase
No man may take away.

"And I will build beside it,
For though your cot may be
In such a lordly presence
No fitting thing to see,
If it honour not my castle,
It will surely honour me!
"For so my loyal people,
Who gaze upon the sight,
Shall know that in oppression
I do not take delight;
Nor hold a king's convenience
Before a subject's right!"

Now from his spoken purpose
The king departed not;
He built the royal dwelling
Upon the chosen spot,
And there they stood together,
The palace and the cot!

Sure such unseemly neighbours
Were never seen before;
"His majesty is doting,"

His silly courtiers swore; But all true loyal subjects, They loved the king the more.

Long, long he ruled his kingdom In honour and renown;

But danger ever threatens

The head that wears a crown, And Fortune, tired of smiling, For once put on a frown.

For ever secret Envy
Attends a high estate;
And ever lurking Malice

Pursues the good and great;

And ever base Ambition

Will end in deadly Hate!

And so two wicked courtiers, Who long had strove in vain, By craft and evil counsels

To mar the monarch's reign, Contrived a scheme infernal Whereby he should be slain !

But as all deeds of darkness
Are wont to leave a clue
Before the glaring sunlight
To bring the knaves to view,
That sin may be rewarded,
And Satan get his due,—

Κι

To plan their wicked treason,
They sought a lonely spot
Behind the royal palace,

Hard by the widow's cot,
Who heard their machinations,
And straight revealed the plot !

"I see,”—exclaimed the Persian,—
"The just are wise alone;
Who spares the rights of others
May chance to guard his own;

The widow's humble cottage

Has propped a monarch's throne!"

J. Godfrey Saxe.

THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.

ING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,

And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the

court;

The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by their sides,

And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed.

And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see the crowning show

Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws,

They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws;

With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled one on another,

Till all their pit with sand and mane was in a thund'rous smother;

The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air

Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there!"

De Lorge's love o'erheard the king—a beauteous, lively dame,

With smiling lips, and sharp, bright eyes, which always seemed the same.

She thought, "The Count, my lover, is brave as brave can be:

He surely would do wondrous things, to show his love of me!

King, ladies, lovers, all look on-the occasion is divine,

I'll drop my glove to prove his love-great glory will be mine!"

She dropped her glove to prove his love-then looked on him and smiled:

He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild:

The leap was quick, return was quick; he soon regained his place,

Then threw the glove-but not with love-right in the lady's face.

"By George!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat ;

"Not love," quoth he, “but vanity, sets love a task like that!"

Leigh Hunt.

TOM BOWLING.

HERE, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,

The darling of our crew;

No more he'll hear the tempest howling,
For death has broach'd him to.