"Sing me, sweet Lucy," said Calantha, "sing
Our favourite song—'The Maiden and the King.'
Brother, thou lov'st not music, or, at least,
But some wild war-song that recalls the East.
Who loves not music, still may pause to hark
Nature's free gladness hymning in the lark:
As sings the bird sings Lucy! all her art
A voice in which you listen to a heart."
A blush of fear, a coy reluctant "nay"
Avail her not—thus ran the simple lay:—
THE MAIDEN AND THE KING.
I.
"And far as sweep the seas below,
My sails are on the deep;
And far as yonder eagles go,
My flag on every keep.
"Why o'er the rebel world within
Extendeth not the chart?
No sail can reach—no arms can win
The kingdom of a heart!"
So sigh'd the king—the linden near;
A listener heard the sigh,
And thus the heart he did not hear,
Breathed back the soft reply:—
II.
"And far as sweep the seas below,
His sails are on the deep;
And far as yonder eagles go,
His flag on every keep;
"Love, thou art not a king alone,
Both slave and king thou art!
Who seeks to sway, must stoop to own
The kingdom of a heart!"