These were not rites of inexpressive show,
But hallowed as the types of real woe!
Daughter of England! for a nation’s sighs.
A nation’s heart went with thine obsequies!—
And oft shall time revert a look of grief
On thine existence, beautiful and brief.
Fair spirit! send thy blessing from above
On realms where thou art canonised by love!
Give to a father’s, husband’s bleeding mind,
The peace that angels lend to human kind,