KING CANUTE was weary hearted; he had reigned for years a score,
Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and robbing more;
And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild sea-shore.
'Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King with steps sedate,
Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and goldsticks great,
Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages,—all the officers of state.
Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose to pause,
If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers dropped their jaws;
If to laugh the king was minded, out they burst in loud hee-haws.
But that day a something vexed him, that was clear to old and young:
Thrice his Grace had yawned at table, when his favorite gleemen sung,
Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he bade her hold her tongue.
"Something ails my gracious master," cried the Keeper of the Seal.
"Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served to dinner, or the veal?"
"Psha!" exclaimed the angry monarch, "Keeper, 'tis not that I feel.
"'Tis the HEART, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my rest impair:
Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know no care?
Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary."—Some one cried, "The King's arm-chair!"
Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my Lord the Keeper nodded,
Straight the King's great chair was brought him, by two footmen able-bodied;
Languidly he sank into it: it was comfortably wadded.
"Leading on my fierce companions," cried he, "over storm and brine,
I have fought and I have conquered! Where was glory like to mine?"
Loudly all the courtiers echoed: "Where is glory like to thine?"
"What avail me all my kingdoms? Weary am I now and old;
Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead and cold;
Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the silent mould!
"Oh, remorse, the writhing serpent! at my bosom tears and bites;
Horrid, horrid things I look on, though I put out all the lights;
Ghosts of ghastly recollections troop about my bed at nights.
"Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious fires;
Mothers weeping, virgins screaming vainly for their slaughtered sires.—"
Such a tender conscience," cries the Bishop, "every one admires.
"But for such unpleasant bygones, cease, my gracious lord, to search,
They're forgotten and forgiven by our Holy Mother Church;
Never, never does she leave her benefactors in the lurch.
"Look! the land is crowned with minsters, which your Grace's bounty raised;
Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven are daily praised:
YOU, my lord, to think of dying? on my conscience I'm amazed!"
"Nay, I feel," replied King Canute, "that my end is drawing near."
"Don't say so," exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to squeeze a tear).
"Sure your Grace is strong and lusty, and may live this fifty year."
"Live these fifty years!" the Bishop roared, with actions made to suit.
"Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak of King Canute!
Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his Majesty will do't.
"Adam, Enoch, Lamech, Cainan, Mahaleel, Methusela,
Lived nine hundred years apiece, and mayn't the King as well as they?"
"Fervently," exclaimed the Keeper, "fervently I trust he may."
"HE to die?" resumed the Bishop. He a mortal like to US?
Death was not for him intended, though communis omnibus:
Keeper, you are irreligious, for to talk and cavil thus.
"With his wondrous skill in healing ne'er a doctor can compete,
Loathsome lepers, if he touch them, start up clean upon their feet;
Surely he could raise the dead up, did his Highness think it meet.
"Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the hill,
And, the while he slew the foemen, bid the silver moon stand still?
So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his sacred will."
"Might I stay the sun above us, good sir Bishop?" Canute cried;
"Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly ride?
If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command the tide.
"Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the sign?"
Said the Bishop, bowing lowly, "Land and sea, my lord, are thine."
Canute turned towards the ocean—"Back!" he said, "thou foaming brine.
"From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to retreat;
Venture not, thou stormy rebel, to approach thy master's seat:
Ocean, be thou still! I bid thee come not nearer to my feet!"
But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper roar,
And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling sounding on the shore;
Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the king and courtiers bore.
And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay,
But alone to praise and worship That which earth and seas obey:
And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day.
King Canute is dead and gone: Parasites exist alway.
Notes
Here Thackeray is retelling the legend of Canute, an early King of Britain.
Canute after a long and hectic reign was bemoaning his weakness and age whilst walking on the sea-shore one day. His courtiers in an effort to curry favour praised him as an omnipotent personage with God-like powers. (The Jewish captain is a reference to an Old Testament warrior prophet).
The king shows them they are wrong by telling the tide to turn back which, of course, it does not do.
The final line says that the king is dead and gone but idiotic sycophantic courtiers still remain.
JS Oldpoetry Team
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Comments
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urgent help!!!!! please!!!!
From guest aishwarya (contact)
i hope u must be knowing the poem tithonus......when both of these are compared with each other, we can first see a sense of infalliability in both characters, followed by a feeling of regret......as both try to compare their powers with those of divinity and then can see the consequences......can u please tellme how i can compare them as i hav to write an on the spot project on this of 2 sides on this friday!!! please help!! -
where can i get more info abt william thackeray
From guest amulya (contact)
i need to do a project on him so i need genral info abt him and his other works and if u can the critical appreciatio for this poem
MOD MESSAGE
Please do try reading *ALL* that we have to offer. Under the poem you will often find poem notes, under that there are often comments from many readers. At the top right are the poet's life dates and often the date the poem was written. If you click on the poet's name at the top right it takes you to a biography page with even more details and links. -
who is the jewish capitan mentoine in the poem
From guest jithin (contact)
who is the jewish capitan mentoine in the poem please mail me its very urgent it s for my examzzzz
MOD MESSAGE
Personally I believe he is talking about Jesus but it may be a reference to god in the book of Habakkuk, chapter 3.
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critical note
From guest vss (contact)
it would be very helpful for students like me if a critical note can be added specially about the courtiers. -
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for vss
If you read the earlier comments here and the Notes underneath the poem these may help. Our aim is to present the poem to the reader, so that you are then able to take from it what you will. Homework! - we don't presume to do this. Part of the learning curve for you is to research and study which, in turn will enable you to understand and use that knowledge at another time during your learning.
Regards,
Von ~Oldpoetry
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THE POEM
From guest AKHILA (contact)
MAYBE A SUMMARY CAN BE WRITTEN IN MODERN ENGLISH SO THAT IT WOULD BE EASY FOR PEOPLE TO UNDERSTAND. -
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To guest Akhila.
I have added a summary to the poem notes and also brought the language of the poem more up-to-date in the version below
KING CANUTE was weary hearted; of years he had reigned a score,
Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and robbing more;
And he pondered on his actions, walking by the wild sea-shore.
'Twixt his Chancellor and his Bishop walked the King with steps sedate,
Chamberlains and grooms came after, bearing many precious rods of state,
Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages,—all his courtiers both low and great.
Following after like his shadow, pausing when he chose to pause,
If a frown his royal face contracted, quick the courtiers dropped their jaws;
If to laugh the king was minded, they too burst out in loud hee-haws.
But that day a problem vexed him, that was clear to old and young:
Thrice his Grace had yawned at table, when his favourite minstrels sung,
Once the Queen would have consoled him, yet he commanded “ hold your tongue”.
"Something ails my gracious master," cried the Keeper of the Seal.
"Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served for dinner, or the veal?"
"Psha!" exclaimed the angry monarch, "Keeper, 'tis not that I feel.
"'Tis the HEART, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my rest impair:
Can a king be great as I am, tell me, and yet know no care?
Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary."—Some fool cried, "The King's armchair!"
Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my Lord the Keeper nodded,
Soon the King's great chair was brought him, by two footmen able bodied;
Languidly he sank into it: it was comfortably wadded.
"Leading on my fierce companions," cried he, "over storm and sea,
I have fought and I have conquered! Gathering glory unto me?"
Loudly all the courtiers echoed: "All the glory belongs to thee!"
"What avail me all my kingdoms? Weary am I now and old;
Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead and cold;
I wish I were. And safely buried, underneath the silent mould!
"Oh, remorse, that writhing serpent! at my bosom tears and bites;
Horrid, horrid things I look on, though I put out all the candle lights;
Ghosts of ghastly recollections prowl about my bed at nights.
"Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious fires;
Mothers weeping, children screaming vainly for their slaughtered sires.—"
Such a tender conscience," cries the Bishop, "every one admires.
"But for such unpleasant memories, cease, my gracious lord, to search,
They're forgotten and forgiven by our Holy Mother Church;
Never, never does she leave her benefactors in the lurch.
"Look! the land is supplied with Churches, which your Grace's wealth has raised;
Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven are daily praised:
For you my lord to think of dying? on my conscience I'm amazed!"
"Nay, I feel," replied King Canute, "that my end is drawing near."
"Don't say so," exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to squeeze a tear).
"Sure your Grace is strong and lusty, and may live this fifty year."
"Live these fifty years!" the Bishop roared, with actions made to suit.
"Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak of King Canute!
Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his Majesty will do't.
"Adam, Enoch, Lamech, Cainan, Mahaleel, Methuselah,
Lived nine hundred years apiece, and mayn't the King as well as they?"
"Fervently," exclaimed the Keeper, "fervently I trust he may."
"HE to die?" resumed the Bishop. He’s no mortal like the rest of us!
Death was not for him intended, though all around is strife and fuss:
Keeper, you are irreligious, for to think and utter thus.
"With his majesty’s skill in healing ne'er a doctor can compete,
Loathsome lepers, if he touch them, start up clean upon their feet;
Surely he could raise the dead up, did his Highness think it meet.
"Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the hill,
And, the while he slew the foemen, bid the silver moon stand still?
So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his sacred will."
"Might I stay the sun above us, good sir Bishop?" Canute cried;
"Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly ride?
If the moon obeys my orders, then I can command this tide.
"Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the sign?"
Said the Bishop, bowing lowly, "Land and sea, my lord, are thine."
Canute turned towards the ocean—"Back!" he said, "thou foaming brine.
"From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to retreat;
Venture not, thou stormy rebel, to approach thy master's seat:
Ocean, be thou still! I bid thee come not nearer to my feet!"
But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper roar,
And the rolling waves drew nearer, falling closer on the shore;
Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the king and courtiers bore.
And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay,
But alone to praise and worship That which earth and seas obey:
And his golden crown of empire He never wore from that day.
King Canute died thereafter but sycophantic parasites exist today.
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