These Idylls.
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nd indeed He seems to meScarce other than my king’s 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: We know him now: all narrow jealousiesAre silent; and we see him as he moved,How modest, kindly, all-accomplish’d, wise,With what sublime repression of himself,And in what limits, and how tenderly; Not swaying to this faction or to that;
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