Classic Poem

I SAW him last on this Terrace proud,
Walking in health and gladness,
Begirt with his Court; and in all the crowd
Not a single look of sadness.

Bright was the sun, and the leaves were green,
Blithely the birds were singing,
The cymbal replied to the tambourine,
And the bells were merrily ringing.

I have stood with the crowd beside his bier,
When not a word was spoken;
But every eye was dim with a tear,
And the silence by sobs was broken.

I have heard the earth on his coffin pour
To the muffled drum's deep rolling,
While the minute-gun with its solemn roar,
Drown'd the death-bell's tolling.

The time since he walk'd in his glory thus,
To the grave till I saw him carried,
Was an age of the mightiest change to us ,
But to him a night unvaried.

We have fought the fight; — from his lofty throne
The foe of our land we have tumbled;
And it gladden'd each eye, save his alone,
For whom that foe we humbled.

A daughter belov'd — a Queen — a son —
And a son's sole child have perish'd;
And sad was each heart, save the only one
By which they were fondest cherish'd

For his eyes were seal'd, and his mind was dark,
And he sat in his age's lateness,
Like a vision throned, as a solemn mark
Of the frailty of human greatness.

His silver beard o'er a bosom spread,
Unvex'd by life's commotion,
Like a yearly-lengthening snow-drift shed
On the calm of a frozen ocean.

O'er him oblivion's waters boom'd,
As the stream of time kept flowing;
And we only heard of our King when doom'd
To know that his strength was going.

At intervals thus the waves disgorge,
By weakness rent asunder,
A part of the wreck of the Royal George,
For the people's pity and wonder.