Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/314

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And his triumph had passed away like a vapour, And the green grass was waving its growth of wild flowers; And they, not his banner, gave name to the place. They passed a king's garden, and there sat his daughter, Singing a sweet song remember'd of old, And the song was caught up, and sent back like an echo, From a young voice that came from a cottage beside. Then smiled the Minstrel, "You hear it, my Brothers, My Songs yet are sweet on the lute and the lip." King, not a vestige remains of your palaces; Conqueror, forgotten the fame of your battles: But the Poet yet lives in the sweetness of music— He appeal'd to the heart, that never forgets.