BY GRENVILLE MELLEN.
He sat with haughty men about his throne,
Himself the greatest king. The monarchy
That he held o’er the nations was his own.
It spoke in that broad brow and cloudless eye—
It was the monarchy of soul, that beamed
From every chiseled feature—till command,
With a strange power upon the spirit, seemed
To speak as with a voice from loftier land;
And each who heard it, tho’ he wore a crown,