--May the King be victorious!
FIRST HERALD.--Honor to him who labors day by day
For the world's weal, forgetful of his own.
Like some tall tree that with its stately head
Endures the solar beam, while underneath
It yields refreshing shelter to the weary.
SECOND HERALD.--Let but the monarch wield his threatening rod
And e'en the guilty tremble; at his voice
The rebel spirit cowers; his grateful subjects
Acknowledge him their guardian; rich and poor
Hail him a faithful friend, a loving kinsman.
KING.--Weary as I was before, this complimentary address has refreshed
me. [_Walks on_.
WARDER.--Here is the terrace of the hallowed fire-chamber, and yonder
stands the cow that yields the milk for the oblations. The sacred
enclosure has been recently purified, and looks clean and beautiful.
Ascend, Sire.
KING [_leans on the shoulders of his attendants, and ascends_].
Vetravati, what can possibly be the message that the venerable Kanwa has
sent me by these hermits?--
Perchance their sacred rites have been disturbed
By demons, or some evil has befallen
The innocent herds, their favorites, that graze
Within the precincts of the hermitage;
Or haply, through my sins, some withering blight
Has nipped the creeping plants that spread their arms
Around the hallowed grove.
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