"The King can do no wrong," and thou
Art King indeed to most of us, I trow.
Thou'rt an enchanter, at whose sovereign will
All that there is of progress, learning, skill,
Of beauty, culture, grace—and I might even
Include religion, though that flouts at heaven—
Comes at thy bidding, flies before thy loss;—
And yet men call thee dross!
If thou art dross then I mistaken be
Of thy identity.