So that of all the harpers first and last,
To call him king, is not a base misnomer.
There on those far and ever whiten'd rocks,
You two sit monarchs of a rich dominion;
But I forgot dark Milton's sacred locks,
Serenely resting from his seraph pinion!
Hast thou come back, great bard, to charm and bless
My heart with many a grand, illusive vision,
And show those gorgeous fields of happiness,
With vistas and with rivers all Elysian?