Lordings, who a milder folly than your fathers knew have found, And, where they had pushed the bottle, only push the table round; Gentle (ay, and simple) Ladies, who, when Rapping Spirits come To relieve the weary, dreary tedium of the rout or drum, Rapt in admiration listen, half in wonder, half in fear, Lest there should be "something wicked" mingled with a sport so dear; Sages, who, with show of reason, 'gainst all reason can discourse Of ideo-motor systems, motive wills, and vital force; Dupes of every age and clime, whate'er your station, sex, or years, Lend me all your strength of credence, all your wondrous length of ears, Whilst of things that in the old time in KING ARTHUR'S court befel, Till his very table moved, a veritable tale I tell. Good KING ARTHUR had a custom, whence he swerved not in the least, That the morn should bring the tourney, and the noon should bring the feast, For he knew his knights, aye ready for the battle or the board, Were as prompt with knife and cleaver as with battle-axe and sword, With the same good will would carve a haunch and cut a foeman down, And with equal satisfaction crack a marrow-bone or crown; Or with smiles and winks would bid them listen to the nasal tune Of the King, who dozed--"_his_ custom always of an afternoon." Thus in Camelot around the great loo table in the hall Just thrice fifty knights were daily ranged by KAYE the Seneschal, Whilst KING ARTHUR in the centre of the table took his seat, That he might the better notice if his knights were off their meat. 'Twas a sultry day in summer: e'en the castle's massive walls Could not keep the heat from out the lofty corridors and halls: Open were the doors and windows (partly for the sake of air, Partly that the baser people might behold them dining there, For in high baronial state but little pleasure would there be If a crowd of reverential paupers were not there to see),