So deep the impression of that happy Day,
Not time nor cares could wear it all away;
Ev’n to the last, in his declining years,
He told of all his glories, all his fears:
How blithely forward in that morn he went,
How blest the hours in that fair palace spent,
How vast that Mansion, sure for monarch plann’d, 720
The rooms so many, and yet each so grand—
Millions of books in one large hall were found,
And glorious pictures every room around;