III.
He stands alone upon the deck,
Though thousands gaze on him,
He sees them not, for fond regret
Has made his blue eyes dim;
His boyish lip is quivering,
And flushed his boyish cheek,
And his tearful eye speaks more, by far,
Than words could ever speak.
God grant that he may ever be
As good a prince as now,
Nor ever may true virtue’s crown
Be lifted from his brow!
God bless him for his mother’s sake,
God bless him for his own,
As thus he stands upon the deck,
’Mid thousands all alone!
ODE ON THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES.
March 10th, 1863.
I.
Roses of England of every hue,
Your heads were lately bowed with the dew
Of sorrow for one that was good and true,
Through the length and breadth of your Island-garden,
Missing a hand that had cared for you!
He sleeps in your midst, O Roses,
The Roses he loved and knew,
And blest was your sorrow, Roses,
You gave unto worth its due!
II.
But, O Roses, smile again,
He for whom you weep
Left his spirit among men
When he fell asleep,—
Left his spirit and his name,
Left his pure, unspotted fame,
One who lives them all can claim.
Smile on him, O Roses!
He whose head reposes
In a sacred spot of your Island-garden,
Left him to you, good, brave and true,
To cherish and guard you, Roses!