Fronting its valiant breast to the fierce onset
Of worthless power, that it full surely stood:
That ev'ry spiritual and righteous power
Was on its side: and in this faith, oftimes,
Methought I could into the furnace mouth
Have thrust my hand, and grasp'd the molten flames.
Yet it fell on his head: that noble head,
Upon whose manly gracefulness was fix'd
The gaze of ev'ry eye.
Oh! on his lib'ral front there beam'd a look,
Unto the which all good and gen'rous hearts
Answer return'd.—It was a gentle head,
Bending in pleasant kindliness to all;
So that the timid, who approach'd him trembling,
With cheer'd and vaunting steps retir'd again.
It was a crowned head, yet was it left
Expos'd and fenceless in the hour of danger:
What should have been his safety was his bane.
Away, poor mock'ry of a wretched state!
(Tearing the regal ornaments from her neck, and scattering them about.)
We had been blest; for he as truly loved,
In simplest tenderness, as the poor hind,
Who takes his humble house-mate by the hand,
And says, "this is my all."—Off, cursed band!
Which round our happiness hath been entwin'd
Like to a strangling cord: upon the earth
