Then come the leaves and cover the sill,
Then come the swift flocks of the stare,
Then comes the snow--then comes the heir.


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.


XLIII.

His vassals two
Serve with all homage deep and due.
He is contented, he doth find
Belike the kingdom much to his mind.