And the sounds of labour, blent with cheerful song,
Told of peace and plenty as they rode along.
Smith and craftsman pausing, youth and smiling lass,
Trader, man and master, stood to see them pass,
With a bonnet lifted, and "God bless him!" said
By many a gentle bosom, many a reverend head.
So the father turn'd him to his son and cried,
"Are not these bold subjects worth a monarch's pride?
In their own free circles, by their quiet hearth,
Rearing him a bulwark steady as the Earth:
On their mighty anvils, with a giant's skill,
Bending stubborn iron to his lightest will:
Prosperous and happy, free in heart and soul,
These send forth my glory to the furthest Pole.
Where is there in story any fame above
That King's whose deeds are written in his people's love?"
ORION.
"A hunter of shadows, himself a shade."—HOMER.