And whomsoe’er of heavenly-nurtured kings
Jove’s daughters will to honour, looking down
With smiling aspect on his cradled head
They pour a gentle dew upon his tongue:
And words, as honey sweet, drop from his lips.
To him the people look: on him all eyes
Wait awful, who in righteousness discerns
The ways of judgment: in a single breath,
Utter’d with knowledge, ends the mightiest strife,
And all is peace. The wisdom this of kings: