Текст песни To These Words I Beheld No Tongue - Theatre of Tragedy

Whether the throned monarch weareth the crown
Which I know not to his belongeth
Doth he hence the sceptre sway?
Seasoneth he justice?

Daresay I he doth not
Will he then use his sceptre as a wand?
Where doth sit my awe?
Trieth me conjure
Perchance a spell, a reptile, a sullied hound

Is the gentle rain a quality of his?
I bethink this fro my thoughts, hitherto, about this
I beheld to these words no tongue
Are the monarch′s men his thralls or his servants? (Oft I waylay my tongue)

Those of which are withal by my gnarled heart not heeded
Or doth the trostle sing with more glee at daybreak than at twilight?
Brawl not my imp, nor my cherub
Reserve my judgement (crave not the sword when the bodkin fro)
Thine is that undiscovered country

Be that of calamity, be that of joy, be that of apathy
Tread not paths of new when those of old are
Far by an only single footstep
Walk, be it on the left, on the right, be it the one which
Straight forward leadeth the one of correct
I have as until now not heeded any signs of
I have as until now not heeded any signs of