XLII.

If he be glad, if he be sad,

How should one question when the hand

Is full, the heart. That life he had,

While leisure was aside may stand,

Till he shall overtake the task

Of every day, then let him ask

( If he remember — if he will ),

‘ When I could sit me down and muse,

And match my good against mine ill,

And weigh advantage dulled by use

At nothing, was it better with me?’

But Sigismund! It cannot be

But that he toil, nor pause, nor sigh,

A dreamer on a day gone by

The king is come.