O Ye Who Sail Potomac'S Even Tide To Vernon'S Shades, Our Chieftain'S Hallowed Mound; Or Who At Distant Shrines High Paeans Sound In Alfred'S Cult, Old England'S Morning Pride; Or Seek Versailles, Conceited As A Bride, With Garish Memories Of Kins Strewn Round; Or Lay Your SpirIt's Cheek On Forum Ground, For Here A Mighty Caesar Lived And Died: To These And Other Stones, O Ye Who Speed, Since There, Forsooth, A Prince Was Passing Great, More Zealous Let Your Heart'S Adoring Heed The Child Most Royal In A Crib'S Estate. No Poor So Poor, No King More King Than He: Come, Better Pilgrims, To This Mystery.