Were the kingly name I bore;
I have left my angel-palace,
Dropping in thy sorrow’s chalice
Consolation; oh! ’twas blessed,
Sweet thy pillow to bend o’er,
Not a bird, love’s angel more.
Shining down with light Elysian
Through the pearly gate of vision,
On thy tranced soul lighted fancy,
When across thy chamber-floor,