<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391501" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Monarch's Death-Bed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A monarch on his death-bed lay -<br>Did censors waft perfume,<br>And soft lamps pour their silvery ray,<br>Thro' his proud chamber's gloom?<br>He lay upon a greensward bed,<br>Beneath a dark'ning sky -<br>A lone tree waving o'er his head,<br>A swift stream rolling by. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Had he then fall'n as warriors fall,<br>Where spear strikes fire with spear?<br>Was there a banner for his pall,<br>A buckler for his bier?<br>Not so;–nor cloven shields nor helms<br>Had strewn the bloody sod,<br>Where he, the helpless lord of realms,<br>Yielded his soul to God. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Were there not friends with words of cheer, <br>And princely vassals nigh?<br>And priests, the crucifix to rear<br>Before the glazing eye?<br>A peasant girl that royal head<br>Upon her bosom laid,<br>And, shrinking not for woman's dread, <br>The face of death survey'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alone she sat: -– from hill and wood<br>Red sank the mournful sun;<br>Fast gush'd the fount of noble blood, -<br>Treason its worst had done!<br>With her long hair she vainly press'<br>The wounds, to staunch their tide -<br>Unknown, on that meek humble breast, <br>Imperial Albert died!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391501" data-title="A Monarch's Death-Bed de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="A monarch on his death-bed lay - Did censors waft perfume, And soft lamps pour their silvery ray, Thro' his proud chamber's gloom? He lay upon a greensward bed, Beneath a dark'ning sky - A lone tree waving o'er his head, A swift stream rolling by...."></div> </div> </div>

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