"SHOW me a king, whose high decree By all his realm is blest, Whose heaven-deputed sway shall be Deep in his subjects' breast." And lo! a radiant throne was nigh, A gorgeous purple robe, A lofty form, an eagle eye, That aimed to rule the globe. Peers at his bidding came and went, Proud hosts to battle trod; Even high-soul'd Genius humbly bent And hailed him as a god. Wealth spread her treasures to his sight, Fame bade her clarion roll; -- But yet his sceptre seemed to blight The freedom of the soul. And deep within his bosom lay The poison'd shaft of care, Nor ermined pomp, nor regal sway Forbade its rankling there. No fearless truth his ear addressed, Though thousands sang his praise; A hollow-hearted thing at best Was all their courtly phrase. I saw Suspicion cloud his day, And fear his firmness move; And felt there was no perfect sway Save what is built on love. "Show me a king." -- They brought a child Clad in his robe of white, His golden curls waved loose and wild, His full blue eye was bright. A haughty warrior strode that way, Whose crest had never bowed Beneath his brother of the clay In battle or in crowd: -- Yet down before that babe he bent, A captive to his charms, And meek, as with a slave's intent, Received him in his arms. Beauty was near, and love's warm sigh Burst forth from manhood's breast, While pride was kindling in that eye Which saw its power cornest: -- 'Sing me a song," the urchin cried, And from her lips did part, A strain to kneeling man denied, Rich music of the heart. A sage austere, for learning famed, Frown'd with abstracted air: "Tell me a tale," the child exclaimed, And boldly climbed his chair: While he (how wondrous was the change.) Poured forth, in language free, Enforc'd with gestures strong and strange, A tale of Araby. "I sought a king:" -- but Nature cried His royalty revere, Who conquers beauty, power and pride, Thus with a smile or tear: The anointed monarch's eye may wake, His bosom grieve alone, But infant Innocence doth make The human heart its throne. |