Thou mightst have lived to dark and evil years,
To mourn thy people changed, thy skies o’ercast;
But thy spring morn was all undimm’d by tears,
And thou wert loved and cherish’d to the last!
And thy young name, ne’er breathed in ruder tone,
Thus dying, thou hast left to love and grief alone.
XXI.
Daughter of Kings! from that high sphere look down
Where still, in hope, affection’s thoughts may rise;
Where dimly shines to thee that mortal crown