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First Line: Here murdered by the frenzied, not the free
Last Line: And waited for the rising of the king.
Subject(s): Epitaphs


HERE, murdered by the frenzied, not the free,
Lies the last monarch of a star-crossed line;
Anointed Emperor by right divine:
From Arctic icefields to the Aral sea,
From Warsaw to the walls of Tartary.
His country's travail claimed a high design;
Too stubborn to respond, he shrank supine
Before the large demand of destiny.

Bereft of crown, and throne, and hearth, and name,
Grief lent him majesty, and suffering
Gave him a more than royal diadem.
His people kissed the desecrated hem
Of robes not now of splendour but of shame,
And waited for the rising of the King.





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