By blood a king, in heart a clown.

Authority forgets a dying king.

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this, To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips

It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me

Be near me when my light is low,/ When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick/ And tingle; and the heart is sick,/ And all the wheels of Being slow.

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this, To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips