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King WILLIAM and the PLOWMAN.
GReat William, our renowned King,
And in the glory of the spring,
Went forth to take the pleasant air,
Into a comely country there.
Laid by his robes of dignity,
Was clothed in humility,
That wheresoe'er he chanc'd to go,
His royalty they might not know.
As thro' a pleasant field he past,
It was his chance to see at last,
An aged man with wrinkled brow,
Was sweating at the weary plough.
The King most courteously appear'd,
And said, Good-morrow, father dear,
Which doth our nourishment give forth,
Thou painful tiller of the earth.
Then the old man, immediately,
Return'd the King this short reply,
Good-morrow, right renowned Sir,
Yon are the earth's great Governor.
Then said the King, why saidst thou so?
Quoth the old man, because I know:
When God this mighty Globe did frame,
Man was made Governor of the same.
