And all their little tiffs to trace
We cannot spare the time or space.
Yet there are some who fain would sing
The praises of this rotund King;
But as a husband we’re afraid
His category’s lowest grade.
He wielded harsh the despot’s power,
And packed his wives off to the Tower;
Consigned them to a fate most dreaded;
Two, alas! he had beheaded.
HAIL NOW TO THEE OUR GOOD QUEEN BESS! Henry VIII. (continued)
Reformation 1517
MARTIN Luther, fifteen-one-seven,
Sows his Reformation leaven;
It finds a culture medium here
In the ‘New Learning’s’ atmosphere.
Of this New Learning More’s the chief,
Utopia’s Author, He’s ’mid grief