The Two Old Kings

In ruling well what guerdon? Life runs low,
As yonder lamp upon the hour-glass lies,
Waning and wasted. We are great and wise,
But Love is gone; and Silence seems to grow
Along the misty road where we must go.
From summits near the morning star's uprise
Death comes, a shadow from the northern skies,
As, when all leaves are down, there comes the snow.

Brother and King, we hold our last carouse.
One loving-cup we drain and then farewell.
The night is spent: the crystal morning ray
Calls us, as soldiers laurell'd on our brows,
To march undaunted while the clarions swell —
Heroic hearts, upon our lonely way.