I see thee throned aloft; thy fair hands hold
Myrtles for joy, and euphrasy and rue:
Laurels and roses round thy white brows rolled,
And in thine eyes the royal heaven's hue:
But in thy lips' clear colour, ruddy bright,
The heart's blood shines of many a hapless wight.
Thou are not only fair and sweet as spring;
Terror and beauty, fear and wondering
Meet on thy brow, amazing all that see:
All men do praise thee, ay, and everything;
Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee.
V.
I fear thee, though I love. Who can behold
The sheer sun burning in the orbèd blue,
What while the noontide over hill and wold
Flames like a fire, except his mazèd view
Wither and tremble? So thy splendid sight
Fills me with mingled gladness and affright.
Thy visage haunts me in the wavering
Of dreams, and in the dawn awakening,
I feel thy radiance streaming full on me.
Both fear and joy unto thy feet I bring;
Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee!
Envoy.
God above Gods, High and Eternal King,
To whom the spheral symphonies do sing,
I find no whither from thy power to flee,
Save in thy pinions vast o'ershadowing.
Thou art my Lord to whom I bend the knee.
John Payne.
THE CHANT OF THE CHILDREN OF THE MIST.
(Chant Royal.)
I waited on a mountain's midmost side,
The lifting of a cloud, and standing there,
Keeping my soul in patience far and wide
Beheld faint shadows wandering, felt the air
Stirred as with voices which in passing by
Still dulled its weary weight with many a sigh.
No band of pilgrims or of soldiers they—
These children of the mist—who took their way,
Each one aloof, perplexed and pondering
With steps untimed to music grave or gay;—
This was a people that had lost its king.
In happier days of old it was their pride
To serve him on their knee and some were 'ware
E'en of his voice or presence as they plied
Their daily task, or ate their simple fare.
Now in new glory shrouded, far and nigh
He had withdrawn himself from ear and eye;
Scorning such service as they knew to pay,
His ministers were as the golden ray
Shot from the sun when he would wake the spring,—
Swift to perform and pliant to obey—
This was a people that had lost its king.