English poem
Kings Are Great Blessings!
by Thomas Spence (1832–1900)
Soon as a Monarch mounts a throne, His usefulness is clearly known, As thousands can declare; The kingly trade he undertakes, And MANY a little monarch makes, The government to share.
And now in all the toils of state, He thinks and labours—early—late; And with an anxious mind! He presses on from care to care, The people's burthens heavy bear, Upon his gracious mind!
He leaves the dissipated crew; Routs, feasts, and sporting to pursue— The Follies of the Day: Far greater thoughts his heart engage, Than concerts—hunting—or the stage; As wise Duguet doth say.
The law he next surveys, and sees That acts and deeds, and suits and fees May not the poor oppress; Hence judges so UPRIGHT we see, And juries HONEST, wise, and FREE; Their purest thoughts express.
Anon the Church his care demands, The holy troop with gowns and bands, He suffers none FOR HIRE! To feed and guide the poor and blind, To raise and cultivate the mind, Of each he doth require.
Thus Kings are rais'd to bless a land, And Church and State go hand in hand, The blessing to ensure; Upon men's backs the Junto rides; So soft they sit upon their hides, 'Tis pleasant to endure!