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THE WORKS OF
IDYLLS OF THE KING.
HENRY S. KING & Co.
280, n. 838
These to His Memory-since he held them dear,
And indeed He seems to me Scarce other than my own ideal knight,
Who reverenced his conscience as his king ; Whose glory was, redressing human wrong; Who spake no slander, no, nor listen'd to it; Who loved one only and who clave to her—' Her-over all whose realms to their last isle, Commingled with the gloom of imminent war, The shadow of His loss drew like eclipse, Darkening the world. We have lost him : he is gone :