FRONTISPIECE TO VOLUME II, HONORING LISZT
I.
We welcome thee, from southern sunnier clime,
To England's shore,
And stretch glad hands across the lapse of time
To the once more.
II.
Full twice two decades swiftly have rolled by
Since thou wast here;
A meteor flashing through our northern sky
Thou didst appear.
III.
Thy coming now we greet with pleasure keen,
And loyal heart,
Adding tradition of what thou hast been
To what thou art.
IV.
No laurel can we weave into the crown
Long years entwine,
Nor add one honour into the renown
Already thine:
V.
Yet might these roses waft to thee a breath
Of memory,
Recalling thy fair Saint Elizabeth
Of Hungary
VI.
We welcome her, from out those days of old,
In song divine,
But thee we greet a thousand fold,
The song is thine!
—C.B.
[Presumably written by Constance Bache, this trite paean would likely not have appealed to Liszt, who repeatedly affirmed his humility.]