Until they came, a Kingdom's pride, with thee;
I cannot know thee if thou art a lord;
Be Alfred Tennyson until the last;
Not Bonchurch, nor another. Is there none
Can yet persuade thee, ere it be too late?"
But he, the poet, listened, and was dumb,
And yet resolved. Ah, he would be a lord,
And sink the name round which his glory grew.
And so there came a herald with a scroll,
One who makes ancestors and coats of arms,