WRITTEN AT FREDENSBORG,
The deserted Palace of the late Queen Dowager Juliana Maria[[18]].
Bless’d are the steps of Virtue’s queen!
Where’er she moves fresh roses bloom;
And, when she droops, kind Nature pours
Her genuine tears in gentle show’rs,
That love to dew the willow green
That over-canopies her tomb.
But, ah! no willing mourner here
Attends to tell the tale of woe:
Why is yon statue prostrate thrown?
Why has the grass green’d o’er the stone?
Why, ’gainst the spider’d casement drear,
So sullen seems the wind to blow?
How mournful was the lonely bird,
Within yon dark neglected grove!
Say, was it fancy? From its throat
Issu’d a strange and cheerless note;
’Twas not so sad as grief I heard,
Nor yet so wildly sweet as love.
In the deep gloom of yonder dell
Ambition’s blood-stain’d victims sigh’d;
While Time beholds, without a tear,
Fell Desolation hov’ring near,
Whose angry blushes seem to tell.
Here Juliana shudd’ring died!
[18] This palace, called the Mansion of Peace, is in the road and near to Elsineur; it was the retreat of the ambitious and remorseless Juliana Maria, the mother-in-law of Christian VII. whose intrigues and jealousy sent Brandt and Struensee to the scaffold, and drove the unhappy Matilda, the mother of the present King of Denmark, from her throne, and the arms of her royal husband. Juliana died here. The palace and grounds, parts of which are beautiful, were, when I visited them in 1804, much neglected.
SONG
Upon the Admiration of the Valour and amiable Qualities of Lord Nelson, expressed by Junot, now Duke of Abrantes, who, by the Chances of War, was for a short Time the British Hero’s Prisoner.
A wreath from an immortal bough
Should deck that gen’rous victor’s brow,
Who hears his captive’s grateful praise
Augment the thanks his country pays;
For him the minstrel’s song shall flow,
The canvass breathe, the marble glow.
LINES
UPON A LADY DYING
Soon after she had been wrecked on the Cornish Coast,