Chapter 109 No.109

"He stepped before the monarch's chair,

And stood with rustic plainness there,

And little reverence made:

Nor head, nor body, bowed nor bent,

But on the desk his arm he leant,

And words like these he said,

In a low voice-but never tone

So thrilled through vein, and nerve, and bone:-

'My mother sent me from afar,

Sir King,