The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) ::

(Thy loyal folk,—each feeling, thought,
And fancy,—all the sentient train
That, in me, owns thy sway) there's nought
Which may thy sovran power restrain,

III

Be in the uses of thy power
Gentle, as noble monarchs are;
Nor vary with the varying hour,
But, bright and constant as a star,

IV

Sit in the system of my soul,
And there, unmoved, the motions all
Of what thou mak'st my heaven controul.
Dear, though I be indeed thy thrall,

V

And such a grace have kings, though bad,
That even rebels, boldest grown
By wrongs that make man's patience mad,
Do fear to strike against the Crown,

VI

Yet happy folk makes happy king:
And worthiest is that monarch's might
Whom freely freemen love, that cling
In loyal trust to legal right.

University of Virginia Library

THE SUBJECT'S APPEAL.

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