For pleasure; but thro’ all this tract of years
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n that fierce light which beats upon a throne,And blackens every blot: for where is he,Who dares foreshadow for an only son A lovelier life, a more unstain’d, than his?Or how should England dreaming of his sonsHope more for these than some inheritanceOf such a life, a heart, a mind as thine,Thou noble Father of her Kings to be,Laborious for her people and her poor—Voice in the rich dawn of an ampler day—Far-sighted summoner of War and WasteTo fruitful strifes and rivalries of peace—Sweet nature gilded by the gracious gleamOf letters, dear to Science, dear to Art,Dear to thy land and ours, a Prince indeed,Beyond all titles, and a household name,Hereafter, thro’ all times, Albert the Good. Break not, O woman’s-heart, but still endure; Break not, for thou art Royal, but endure,Remembering all the beauty of that starWhich shone so close beside Thee that ye madeOne light together, but has past and leavesThe Crown a lonely splendour. May all love,His love, unseen but felt, o’ershadow Thee,The love of all Thy sons encompass Thee,The love of all Thy daughters cherish Thee,The love cf all Thy people comfort Thee,Till God’s love set Thee at his side again! 25 35 40 45 |
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