Came, eager rushing far and wide,
And, “Fortunate event!” they cried.
The nobles came, the throne address’d:
The hand by which they were oppress’d
They meekly kiss’d, with inward stings
Of anguish for the face of things.
The idlers also, with the tribe
Of those who to themselves prescribe
Their ease and pleasure, in the end
Came sneaking, lest they should offend.