There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old; Dukes were the door–wards there, and the roofs were thatched with gold; Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its doors; Earls' wives were the weaving–women, queens' daughters strewed its floors, And the masters of its song–craft were the mightiest men that cast The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast. There dwelt men merry–hearted, and in hope exceeding great Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate: There the Gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked with men. Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now and again Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the latter days, And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the People's Praise.