MONTAGU
But, oh, those orbs—too wildly bright—
No more eclipse thine own,
And never shall I find the light
Of days forever flown!
APOLLO
Vainly, O burning Poets!
Ye wait for his inspiration,
Even as kings of old
Stood by the oracle-gates.
Hasten back, he will say, hasten back
To your provinces far away!
There, at my own good time,
Will I send my answer to you.
Are ye not kings of song?
At last the god cometh!
The air runs over with splendor;
The fire leaps high on the altar;
Melodious thunders shake the ground.
Hark to the Delphic responses!
Hark! it is the god!
MONTAGU
Queen Katherine of Arragon
In gray Kimbolton dwelt,
A joyous bride, ere bluff King Hal
At Bullen's footstool knelt.
Still in her haughty Spanish eyes
Their childhood's lustre shone,
That lit with love two royal hearts,
And won the English throne.
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