"Ah, sweet, my own Juanna, That I cannot surely know, Though, with half the wives of Cadiz, But with some like your poor mother All hope of cure is o'er; THE DEATH-MARCH OF WELLINGTON. "WHOM bear you thus with heavy tread, "In glory to his place of rest. "A nation throngs the city's ways, "In grief for him whose race is run; "On, in dark state, beneath their gaze, "Comrade, we bear great Wellington." March-slowly march-hark! in the hush, I hear Assaye's hurrah, and Badajos's cheer. Yes-o'er him let the trumpet wail, And round him roll your muffled drums; In this last hour, who now shall fail In open grief for him who comes? Its solemn swell the Dead March pour, In grief for him whose deeds are done; As on we bear great Wellington. March-silent march-hark! in the hush, I hear Vittoria's shout, and Salamanca's cheer. On-bear him on to where they sleep, Our greatest, whom we name with pride ; Lay him by Moore, in slumber deep; Who fixed, with him, red victory's smile! Room for the dead, by him who won On-bear him on-hark! in the hush, I hear Throw wide the doors; dust unto dust; Brooding beneath the mighty dome, A SUMMER THOUGHT. IN thy circle, painted flower, In thy bright-streak'd round that's dwelling? Ah, that men, with noteless eyes, In thy circle, painted flower! A SPRING SONG. SWALLOW, Swallow, hither wing; Swallow, swallow, hither wing, WHY IS SORROW? WHY is sorrow? sunshine's made K 130 GOD SAVE THE QUEEN! Fairer make the face of joy, Why is trouble? darksome night, That its perfect worth is shown; Therefore, welcome strife and peace; GOD SAVE THE QUEEN ! YES, "God save the Queen!" aye, and well may we say it, Ungrudgingly, lovingly, long may it start, Not alone from our lips, when we shout or we pray it, But shouted, or sung, or said, straight from the heart. She reigns for her people-no fav'rite, no party, Between her and them has there ever been seen; "Tis my love for the people that makes me so hearty Whenever I cry, as now, "God save the Queen!" Look abroad through the world-see, wherever your sight still From country to country sets eyes on a throne, Tis the same reign of bayonets, defying all right still; "Tis a rule that is kept up by terror alone; Then, at home, looking round, here what still are we seeing? What is seen, and long may it by all eyes be seen— A nation its limbs from their old shackles freeing, Uncheck'd to its glad cry of "God save the Queen!" She, than all the despots around her far wiser, Is rightly contented ourselves we should rule; Unlike those crowned idiots, who doubtless despise her, She wants not our will to her own still to school; In fact, she don't need it-the two are one only; Her wishes and ours but the same still have been; So who wonders, among us, he'd find himself lonely Who would not cry with us all, "God save the Queen!" As a ruler we prize, as a women we love her; Temptations beset most the souls born so high; A mother-O well may her children caress her, And well may we, with them, pray "God save the Queen!" Yes, long may she live-God, for our sake preserve her; Still to pray that, of rulers, we long have no other Than she for whom here we cry, "God save the Queen!" And when she is gone-for death will not be sparing |