Must all less lowly wait
Than I, upon thy state!—
Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!
Art Thou a King, then? Come, His universe,
Come, crown me Him a king!
Pluck rays from all such stars as never fling
Their light where fell a curse.
And make a crowning for this kingly brow!—
What is my word?—Each empyreal star
Sits in a sphere afar