  On a fair ship, borne swiftly o’er the deep, A man was lying, wrapt in dreamless sleep; When unawares upon a sunken rock That vessel struck, and shattered with the shock. But strange! the plank where lay the sleeper bore Him wrapt in deep sleep ever, to the shore: It bore him safely through the foam and spray, High up on land, where couched ’mid flowers he lay. Sweet tones first woke him from his sleep, when round His couch observant multitudes he found: All hailed him then, and did before him bow, And with one voice exclaimed,—“Our King art thou.” With jubilant applause they bore him on, And set him wondering on a royal throne: And some his limbs with royal robes arrayed, And some before him duteous homage paid, And some brought gifts, all rare and costly things, Nature’s and Art’s profusest offerings. Around him counsellors and servants prest, All eager to accomplish his behest. Wish unaccomplished of his soul was none; The thing that he commanded, it was done. Much he rejoiced, and he had well nigh now Forgotten whence he hither came, and how; Until at eve, of homage weary grown, He craved a season to be left alone. Alone in hall magnificent he sate, And mused upon the wonder of his fate, When lo! an aged counsellor, a seer Before unnoticed, to the King drew near, —“And thee would I too gratulate, my son, Who hast thy reign in happy hour begun: Seen hast thou the beginning, yet attend, While I shall also shew to thee the end. That this new fortune do not blind thee quite, Both sides observe, its shadowy as its bright: Heed what so many who have ruled before, Failing to heed, must rue for evermore. Though sure thy state and firm thy throne appear, King only art thou for the Present here. A time is fixed, albeit unknown to thee, Which when it comes, thou banished hence shalt be. Round this fair isle, though hidden from the eye By mist and vapour, many islands lie: Bare are their coasts, and dreary and forlorn, And unto them the banished kings are borne; On each of these an exiled king doth mourn. For when a new king comes, they bear away The old, whom now no vassals more obey; Unhonoured and unwilling he is sent Unto his dreary island banishment, While all who girt his throne with service true Now fall away from him, to serve the new. “What I have told thee lay betimes to heart, And ere thy rule is ended, take thy part, That thou hereafter on thine isle forlorn Do not thy vanished kingdom vainly mourn, When nothing of its pomp to thee remains, On that bare shore, save only memory’s pains. “Much, O my Prince! my words have thee distrest, Thy head has sunk in sorrow on thy breast; Yet idle sorrow helps not—I will show A nobler way, which shall true help bestow. This counsel take—to others given in vain, While no belief from them my words might gain.— Know then whilst thou art Monarch here, there stand Helps for the future many at command. Then, while thou canst, employ them to adorn That island, whither thou must once be borne. Unbuilt and waste and barren now that strand, There gush no fountains from the thirsty sand, No groves of palm-trees have been planted there, Nor plants of odorous scent embalm that air, While all alike have shunned to contemplate That they should ever change their flattering state. But make thou there provision of delight, Till that which now so threatens, may invite; Bid there thy servants build up royal towers, And change its barren sands to leafy bowers; Bid fountains there be hewn, and cause to bloom Immortal amaranths, shedding rich perfume. So when the world, which speaks thee now so fair, And flatters so, again shall strip thee bare, And sends thee naked forth in harshest wise, Thou joyfully wilt seek thy Paradise. There will not vex thee memories of the past, While hope will heighten here the joys thou hast. This do, while yet the power is in thine hand, While thou hast helps so many at command.” Then raised the Prince his head with courage new, And what the sage advised, prepared to do. He ruled his realm with meekness, and meanwhile He marvellously decked the chosen isle; Bade there his servants build up royal towers, And change its barren sands to leafy bowers; Bade fountains there be hewn, and caused to bloom Immortal amaranths, shedding rich perfume. And when he long enough had kept his throne, To him sweet odours from that isle were blown: Then knew he that its gardens blooming were, And all the yearnings of his soul were there. Grief was it not to him, but joy, when they His crown and sceptre bade him quit one day; When him his servants rudely did dismiss, ’Twas not the sentence of his ended bliss, But pomp and power he cheerfully forsook, And to his isle a willing journey took, And found diviner pleasure on that shore, |
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