IN ANGELÆ HONOREM.
"A Meeting was held in the Hall of Columbia Market, on Monday evening, Sir Thomas Dakin in the Chair, to consider what testimonial of public respect and gratitude should be offered to Baroness Burdett Coutts."—Daily News.
Sweet names there are that carry sweet natures in their sound;
Whose ring, like hallowed bells of old, seems to shed blessing round:
Such a name of good omen, Florence Nightingale, is thine;
And hers, our Angela's, for all in want and woe that pine.
The Queen has made her noble; but ere that rank was given,
She had donned robe and coronet of the peerage made in Heaven:
Baptised in purer honour than from earthly fountain flows,
Raised to a prouder Upper House than our proud island knows.
The loftiest of that peerage are of lowliest mood and will;
And this their proudest lordship, Love's service to fulfil:
Chief Stewards and High Almoners of the goods Heaven bestows—
'Tis theirs to see that Charity in Wisdom's channels flows.
For e'en that stream, ill-guided, can poison goodly ground—
For health, sow fever broadcast, for blessing, blight, around:
'Tis not enough its waters to loose with lib'ral mind;
If Reason lends not eyes to Love, Love strays—for he is blind.
This she has known, our Angela, for whom men ask, e'en now,
"Fit tribute of our gratitude where shall we pay, and how?"
If blessings clothed in substance, prayers made palpable, could be,
When had Kaiser, King, or Conqueror, such monument as she?
But what can gold, or silver, or bronze, or marble, pay
Of the unsummed debt of gratitude owed her this many a day?
What record, parchment-blazoned, closed in golden casket rare,
Can with her love, in England's heart, for preciousness compare?
If we needs must find her symbol, then carve and set on high
A heavy-laden camel going through the needle's eye;
Gold-burdened, by a gentle yet firm hand wisely driven,—
Our Angela's, that on it rides, riches and all, to Heaven!
Or if a painted record be by the occasion claimed,
Paint up Bethesda's Pool, and round, the sick, the halt, and maimed,
Waiting until our Angela through Earth's afflicted go
To stir wealth's healing waters, that await her hand to flow.