Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and Holland: Vols. XIV–XV. 1876–79.
The Wake of the King of Spain
By Anna Laetitia Barbauld (17431825)
A
But stiff and cold the monarch sate;
In gorgeous vests, his chair beside,
Stood prince and peer, the nation’s pride;
And paladin and high-born dame
Their place amid the circle claim;
And wands of office lifted high,
And arms and blazoned heraldry,—
All mute like marble statues stand,
Nor raise the eye, nor move the hand;
No voice, no sound to stir the air,
The silence of the grave is there.
“Come forth, O king! O king, rejoice!
The bowl is filled, the feast is spread,
Come forth, O king!” The king is dead.
The bowl, the feast, he tastes no more,
The feast of life for him is o’er.
And speaks again the voice that spake:
“The sun is high, the sun is warm;
Forth to the field the gallants swarm,
The foaming bit the courser champs,
His hoof the turf impatient stamps;
Light on their steeds the hunters spring;
The sun is high,—Come forth, O king!”
In vain the voice of pleasure calls:
The horse may neigh, and bay the hound,—
He hears no more; his sleep is sound.
Retire;—once more the portals close;
Leave, leave him to his dread repose.