Whether the throned monarch weareth the crown Which I know not to his belongeth Doth he hence the sceptre sway? Seasoneth he justice? ♪ Daresay I he doth not Will he then use his sceptre as a wand? Where doth sit my awe? Trieth me conjure Perchance a spell, a reptile, a sullied hound? Is the gentle rain a quality of his? I bethink this fro my thoughts, hitherto about this I beheld to these words no tongue Are the monarch's men his thralls or his servants? Oft I waylay my tongue Those of which are withal by my gnarled heart not heeded Or doth the throstle sing more glee at daybreak than at twilight? Brawl not my imp, nor my cherub, reserve my judgement Crave not the sword when the bodkin fro ere thine is That undiscovered country Be that of calamity, be that of joy, be that of apathy Tread not paths of new when those of old are far by an only single footstep Walk, be it on the left, on the right Be it the one which straightforward leadeth The one of correct I have as until now not heeded any signs of I have as until now not heeded any signs of