Here murdered by the frenzied, not the free,
Lies the latest monarch of a star-crossed line;
Anointed Emperor by right divine,
From Arctic icefields to the Aral sea,
From Warsaw to the walls of Tartary.
His country’s travail claimed a high design;
Too stubborn to respond, he shrank supine
Before the large demand of destiny.
Bereft of crown, and throne, and hearth and name,
Grief lent him majesty, and suffering
Gave him a more than regal diadem.
His people kissed the desecrated hem
Of robes not now of splendour but of shame,
And knelt before their undiminished King.