From thy throne in some bright sphere On this poor brother grovelling here; For I, too, I can stoutly sing
I am every inch a king!
A king of Thought, a Potentate Of glorious spiritual state,
A king of Thought, a king of Mind, Realms unmapp'd and undefined,— A king! beneath no man's control, Invested with a royal soul, Crown'd by God's imperial hand Before him as a king to stand, And by His wisdom train'd and taught To rule my realm as King of Thought.
O thoughts, how ill my fellow-men, O thoughts, how scanty my poor pen Can guess or tell the myriad host Wherewith you crowd my kingdom's coast! For I am hemm'd and throng'd about With your triumphant rabble-rout, Hurried along by that mad flood, The joy-excited multitud
A conqueror, borne upon the foam, Of his great people's gladness home, A monarch in his grandest state, On whom a thousand thousand wait! Lo! they come-my Tribes of Thought, Fierce and flush'd and fever-fraught! From the horizon all around
I hear with pride their coming sound; See! their banners circling near,— Glittering groves of shield and spear, Flying clouds of troopers gay, Serried lines in dark array, Veterans calm with temper'd sword, And a dishevelled frantic horde,- On they come with furious force, Tramping foot and thundering horse,
On they come, converging loud, With clanging arms, a glorious crowd Shouting impatient, fierce and free, For me, their Monarch, yea, for me!
Then, in my majesty and power, I quell the madness of the hour, Bid that tumultuous turmoil cease, And frown my multitudes to peace. Each to his peril and his post!
All hush'd throughout my mighty host: Courage clear, and duty stern,— Heads that freeze and hearts that burn;
Marshalled straight in order due,
Legions! pass in swift review,
Bending to my blazoned will,
Loyal to that standard still,
And hailing me with homage then
King of Thoughts-and thus, of Men!
What? am I powerless to control
Nations, by my single soul?
What? have I not made thousands thrill
By the mere impulse of my will,
When the strong Thought goes forth, and binds
Captive a wandering herd of minds ?
And is not this to reign alone
More than the ermine and the throne, The jewelled state, the gilded rooms, The mindless man in borrowed plumes ? Yes, if the inmate soul outweighs Its dull clay house in power and praise: Yes,-if Eternity be true,
And Time both false and fleeting too,
Then, humbler kings, my boast be this,
Place me on some desert shore
Foot of man ne'er wandered o'er;
Lock me in a lonely cell
Beneath some prison citadel;
Still, here or there, within I find My quiet kingdom of the Mind; Nay,-mid the tempest fierce and dark, Float me on peril's frailest bark, My quenchless soul could sit and think And smile at danger's dizziest brink: And wherefore?—God, my God, is still King of kings in good and ill;
And where He dwelleth-every where- Safety supreme and peace are there ; And where he reigneth-all around- Wisdom, and love, and power are found; And reconciled to Him and bliss,
"My mind to me a kingdom is."
Thus for my days; each waking hour Grand with majesty and power,
Every minute rich in treasure,
Gems of peace, and pearls of pleasure. And for my nights—those wondrous nights? How manifold my Mind's delights, When the young truant, gladly caught In its own labyrinths of thought, Finds there is another realm to range, The dynasties of Chance and Change. O dreams,-what know I not of dreams? Their name, their very essence, seems A tender light, not dark nor clear, A sad sweet mystery wild and dear, A dull soft feeling unexplained,
A lie half true, a truth half feigned: O dreams,-what know I not of dreams? When Reason, with inebriate gleams, Looses from his wise control The prancing Fancies of the soul, And sober Judgment, slumbering still, Sets free Caprice to guide the Will. Within one night have I not spent Years of adventurous banishment, Strangely groping like the blind In the dark caverns of my mind? Have I not dwelt, from eve till morn, Lifetimes in length for praise or scorn, With fancied joys, ideal woes, And all sensation's warmest glows, Wondrously thus expanding Life
Through seeming scenes of peace or strife,
Until I verily reign sublime,
A great creative king of Time?
And there are people, things, and places,
Usual themes, familiar faces,
A second life, that looks as real
As this dull world's own unideal,
Another life of dreams by night, That, still forgotten wanes in light, Yet seems itself to wake and sleep,
And in that sleep dreams doubly deep, While those same dreams may dream anon, Tangled mazes wandering on!
Yes, I have often, weak and worn, Feebly waked at earliest morn, As a shipwreck'd sailor, tost
By the wild waves on some rough coast, Of perils past remembering nought But some dim cataracts of thought, And only roused betimes to know That yesterday seems years ago And I can apprehend full well What old Pythagoras could tell Of other scenes, and other climes, And other Selfs in other times; For, oft my consciousness has reel'd With scores of "Richards in the field,"
As, multiform, with no surprise,
I see myself in other guise,
And wonderless walk side by side With mine own soul, self-multiplied! If it be royal then to reign Over an infinite domain,
If it be more than monarch can To lengthen out the life of man, Yea, if a godlike thing it be To revel in ubiquity,
Is there but empty boast in this,
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