Apollo singeth, while his chariot
Waits at the door of heaven. Thou art not
For scenes like this; an empire stern hast thou;
And it hath furrowed that large front: yet now,
As newly come of heaven, dost thou sit,
To blend and inter-knit
Subdued majesty with this glad time.
O shell born king sublime!
We lay our hearts before thee evermore—
We sing and we adore!"