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Satires of Circumstance

by Thomas Hardy

76 of 107 · Contents · Download EPUB

A King’s Soliloquy on the Night of His Funeral

From the slow march and muffled drum
   And crowds distrest,
And book and bell, at length I have come
   To my full rest.

A ten years’ rule beneath the sun
   Is wound up here,
And what I have done, what left undone,
   Figures out clear.

Yet in the estimate of such
   It grieves me more
That I by some was loved so much
   Than that I bore,

From others, judgment of that hue
   Which over-hope
Breeds from a theoretic view
   Of regal scope.

For kingly opportunities
   Right many have sighed;
How best to bear its devilries
   Those learn who have tried!

I have eaten the fat and drunk the sweet,
   Lived the life out
From the first greeting glad drum-beat
   To the last shout.

What pleasure earth affords to kings
   I have enjoyed
Through its long vivid pulse-stirrings
   Even till it cloyed.

What days of drudgery, nights of stress
   Can cark a throne,
Even one maintained in peacefulness,
   I too have known.

And so, I think, could I step back
   To life again,
I should prefer the average track
   Of average men,

Since, as with them, what kingship would
   It cannot do,
Nor to first thoughts however good
   Hold itself true.

Something binds hard the royal hand,
   As all that be,
And it is That has shaped, has planned
   My acts and me.

May 1910.

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