22
POEMS.
And power to act; for me there gleams the dawn
Of reason in a mind for long time weak.
Of reason in a mind for long time weak.
That sound again!
Whence comes it? 'tis like rivers running through
A sea of meads where flow'rets bud and bloom,
As clear as sunlight on a sky of blue
That holds no cloud of dark prophetic gloom.
Whence comes it? 'tis like rivers running through
A sea of meads where flow'rets bud and bloom,
As clear as sunlight on a sky of blue
That holds no cloud of dark prophetic gloom.
Sing on, sing on,
Sweet singer, for 'tis passing strange once more
To realise my kingly state and crown,
But ah! that regal weight hath pressed full sore
Until I longed to lay the sceptre down.
Sweet singer, for 'tis passing strange once more
To realise my kingly state and crown,
But ah! that regal weight hath pressed full sore
Until I longed to lay the sceptre down.
Prythee sing on,
Oh! greatest singer of the world, nor stay
Those thrilling tones and melting notes of art,
With thoughts ineffable they charm away
The dark forebodings in a monarch's heart.
Oh! greatest singer of the world, nor stay
Those thrilling tones and melting notes of art,
With thoughts ineffable they charm away
The dark forebodings in a monarch's heart.
Prythee sing on,
The while I gaze upon thy matchless grace
And statuesque repose, the brow that gleams
And crowns the perfect grandeur of a face,
The ideal beauty of a poet's dreams.
The while I gaze upon thy matchless grace
And statuesque repose, the brow that gleams
And crowns the perfect grandeur of a face,
The ideal beauty of a poet's dreams.
Sing on, sing on,
Thy greatest triumph this, to know a King
Hath by thy magic strains won back his might,
And by a voice borne on an angel's wing,
His power to govern, as is just and right.
Thy greatest triumph this, to know a King
Hath by thy magic strains won back his might,
And by a voice borne on an angel's wing,
His power to govern, as is just and right.
