 | Alfred |  |
Still through the wood, the king in silence moved,
Contemplating himself, tho' near his home,
A stranger to its comforts, then again
Pondering on all the wrongs, deep and untold,
His subjects felt; for whom, at opening morn,
And through the day, and at the hour of night,
He loved to cherish plans, so great, that minds,
Sordid and grovelling, might with one consent
Wrathful, have called them, phantasies and dreams,
And, with convenient words and obstacles,
Talk'd learnedly. Yet Alfred prized such thoughts,
And from his earliest youth had sought t'enlarge
The bounds of human intellect, and prove
What joys the world might know, if those who ruled,
Lived for their subjects.
Contemplating himself, tho' near his home,
A stranger to its comforts, then again
Pondering on all the wrongs, deep and untold,
His subjects felt; for whom, at opening morn,
And through the day, and at the hour of night,
He loved to cherish plans, so great, that minds,
Sordid and grovelling, might with one consent
195
And, with convenient words and obstacles,
Talk'd learnedly. Yet Alfred prized such thoughts,
And from his earliest youth had sought t'enlarge
The bounds of human intellect, and prove
What joys the world might know, if those who ruled,
Lived for their subjects.
| Alfred | |