Read it through once

He stood—no monarch's state was in his mien; No jewels flash'd about him—no parade: A cloak of coarse and darken'd tissue screen'd The circling of his limbs that toil betray'd. But there was one unearthly hue in him, A lustre not of suns, nor earthly skies; And in his eye a solitary gleam, As if the future's light within it lies.