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Now emperors bide their times' rebuff
I would not be a king—enough
Of woe it is to love;
The paths of power are steep and rough,
And tempests reign above.
I would not climb the imperial throne;
'Tis built on ice which fortune's sun
Thaws in the height of noon.
Then farewell, kings, that squeak 'Ha' done!'
To time's full-throated tune.
PAUL VANDERHOFFEN.—Emma and Caroline. |
