To These Words I Beheld No Tongue
Whether the throned Monarch weareth the crown,Which I know not whether to his belongeth;Doth he hence the sceptre sway?Seasoneth he justice? -Daresay I he doth not,Will he then use his sceptre as a wand? -Where doth sit my awe? - Trieth me conjure;Perchance a spell?; a reptile, a sullied hound? -Is the gentle rain a quality of his? -I bethink this fro my thoughts; hitherto, about this,I beheld to these words no tongue; are theMonarch's men his thralls or his servants? -Oft I waylay my tongue -Those of which are withal by my gnarled heart not heed'd;Or doth the throstle sing with more gleeAt daybreak than than a twilight? -Brawl not my imp, nor my cherub; reserve my judgement -Crave not the sword when the bodkin fro ere thine is;That undiscover'd country; be thatOf calamity, be that of joy, be that of apathy;Tread not paths of new when those of old areFar by an only single footstep; walk, be itOn the left, on the right - be it the one whichStraight forward leadeth; the one of correctI have as until now not heed'd any signs of!