TO THE QUEEN. REVERED, beloved, - O you that hold Than arms, or power of brain, or birth, Victoria, since your Royal grace - To one of less desert allows This laurel greener from the brows Of him that uttered nothing base; And should your greatness, and the care And through wild March the throstle calls, The sun-lit almond-blossom shakes Take, Madam, this poor book of song; For, though the faults were thick as dust In vacant chambers, I could trust And leave us rulers of your blood As noble till the latest day! May children of our children say, "She wrought her people lasting good; "Her court was pure; her life serene ; "And statesmen at her council met By shaping some august decree, Which kept her throne unshaken stil!, MARCH, 1851. POEMS. CLARIBEL. A MELODY. WHERE Claribel low-lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose-leaves fall: But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, Thick-leaved, ambrosial, With an ancient melody Of an inward agony, Where Claribel low-lieth. At eve the beetle boometh Athwart the thicket lone: At noon the wild bee hummeth About the mossed headstone: |