XXXIII.
Oh noblest maiden, though of low estate,
With every proud and generous impulse rife;
Born to demonstrate to the meanly great,
How vain the pageant of a worthless life!
Sprung from thy heart like wild-flowers all that wife
Could bring of purity to Kingliest throne,
With highest attributes to soothe the strife
Of human passion, for the fall atone,
And show our angel-part preserved in thee alone!