Then took Sir John the robe of state
And gave it to the king;
And now with look of majesty
He eyed the curious thing;
And felt it o’er and o’er again--
As soft and fine it seems
As any beaver’s fur that lives
Beside his woodland streams.
And much the color fills his eye;
A shade so pure and bright,
In any work of art before,
Had never met his sight.
And now the captain and Sir John
The robe of state unfold,
With outstretch’d arms and lifted hands
Aloft the fabric hold;
And while the monarch’s noble form
They wrap the vesture round,
Its many broad and shining folds
Sweep gracefully the ground.
Stately the monarch walks the hall
And turns from side to side,
And all his men and warriors stand
And look with awe and pride.