the January-April 1910 number of the _Dublin Review._ Both are
great poems; but _Lilium Regis_ is made doubly impressive by the
present war. With the clairvoyance of approaching death, Thompson
foresaw the world-struggle, the temporary eclipse of the Christian
Church, and its ultimate triumph. The Lily of the King is Christ's
Holy Church. I do not see how any one can read this poem without a
thrill.

LILIUM REGIS

O Lily of the King! low lies thy silver wing,
And long has been the hour of thine unqueening;
And thy scent of Paradise on the night-wind spills its sighs,
Nor any take the secrets of its meaning.
O Lily of the King! I speak a heavy thing,
O patience, most sorrowful of daughters!
Lo, the hour is at hand for the troubling of the land,
And red shall be the breaking of the waters.

Sit fast upon thy stalk, when the blast shall with thee talk,
With the mercies of the king for thine awning;
And the just understand that thine hour is at hand,
Thine hour at hand with power in the dawning.
When the nations lie in blood, and their kings a broken brood,
Look up, O most sorrowful of daughters!
Lift up thy head and hark what sounds are in the dark,
For His feet are coming to thee on the waters!

O Lily of the King! I shall not see, that sing,
I shall not see the hour of thy queening!