THE BLAMELESS PRINCE
From half the weathercocks which gilt the state,
Spying the wind and shifting where it turned—
That for love's simple sake his son could gain
The world's chief prize, which kings had sought in vain.
How could he choose but clutch it? Yet the son
Seemed worthy, for his parts were of that mould
Oft-failing Nature strives to join in one,
And shape a hero,—pure and wise and bold:
In arts and arms the wonder of his peers,
The flower of princes, prince of cavaliers;
Tall, lithe of form, and of a Northern mien,
Gentle in speech and thought,—while thus he shone,
A rising star, though chosen of a queen,
Why seek the skies less tranquil than his own?
Why should he climb beside her perilous height,
And in that noonday blaze eclipse his light?
Ah, why?—one's own life may be bravely led,
But not another's. Yet, as to and fro
The buzzing private embassies were sped,
And when the Queen's own pages, bowing low,
Told in his ear a sweet and secret story,
The Prince, long trained to seek his house's glory,
Let every gracious sentence seem a plume
Of love and beckoning beauty for his helm.
So passed a season; then the cannon's boom
And belfry's peal delivered to the realm
The Queen's betrothal, and the councils met,
And for the nuptial rites a day was set.
Now when the time grew ripe, the favored Prince
Rides forth, and through the little towns that mourn
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