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A birthday tribute

Addressed to Her Royal Highness the Princess Alexandrina Victoria, on attaining her eighteenth year. By L. E. L. [i.e. Landon] With a portrait

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Such, youthful Ladye, is the outward seeming
Of the fair land whose trust is placed on thee;
Alas! too much is as the ivy gleaming
Round the worn branches of some ancient tree.
Farewell unto thy childhood, and for ever;
Youth's careless hours dwell not around a throne;
The hallowed purpose, and the high endeavour,
The onward-looking thought must be thine own.

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An hour of moral contest is before thee,
Not the old combat of the shield and spear,
But to the azure heaven arching o'er thee,
Rises a nobler hope—a loftier fear.
Low in decay lies many an aged error,
From dust of mouldering falsehood springeth Truth;
The past is to the present as a mirror;
And Hope, to mankind has eternal youth.
Vast is the charge entrusted by high Heaven,
Heavy the weight upon that delicate hand;
Into thy keeping is the balance given,
Wherein is weighed the future of our land.
Around thee is much misery: want and sorrow
Lurk in the hidden places of our earth;
To-day how many tremble at to-morrow,
Life has to them been bitter from its birth.

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Mark those pale children —cold and wan while basking
O'er embers mocking with their feeble glow;
The elder silent—but the youngest asking
For food the mother has not to bestow.

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These are life's common scenes—thy regal dower
Were but a drop flung in a boundless sea;
But thou mayest lead the way—the pomp of power
Will make the careless many follow thee.
From glowing Ind to Huron's waters spreading
Extends the empire that our sword hath won,
There have our sails been peace and knowledge shedding,
Upon thy sceptre never sets the sun.
A nobler triumph still awaits thy winning,
“The mind's ethereal war” is in its birth;
The Cross of Christ is on its way, beginning
Its glorious triumph o'er the darkened earth.
God's blessing be upon thee, Royal Maiden!
And be thy throne heaven's altar here below,
With sweet thanksgivings, and with honours laden,
Of moral victories o'er want and woe.

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Glorious and happy be thy coming hours,
Young Daughter of old England's Royal line!
As in an angel's pathway spring up flowers,
So may a Nation's blessing spring in thine.
 

“Rises a nobler hope—a loftier fear.”—Human perfection is still a beautiful and unrealized dream; it has its encouragement in human progress. A higher and more generous purpose is now the stimulus to all efforts of improvement: our views are more enlightened, because more general; the many have taken the place of the few. In the earlier ages, science kept as secrets those discoveries, which now its chief object is to promulgate. Trade was fettered by monopolies, which it is the first step of commerce to shake off. Laws were rather privilege than protection, not what to-day admits them to be, the sacred barriers of universal right. Knowledge was solitary distinction, or secluded enjoyment; not, as now, to be gained by all, and to be used for all. It is to intellectual intercourse that we owe our advancement; intellect is the pioneer to improvement. We have still to hope, and to aspire. It is only by looking onwards that we can perceive the goal; it is only by looking upwards that we can see heaven.

“Mark those pale children.”—If there be one condition in our land that demands assistance and sympathy, it is that of children of the poor.—

It is for childhood's hour to be
Life's fairy well, and bring
To life's worn, weary memory
The freshness of its spring.
But here the order is reversed,
And infancy, like age,
Knows of existence but its worst,
One dull and darkened page.
Written with tears, and stamped with toil,
Crushed from the earliest hour,
Weeds darkening on the bitter soil,
That never knew a flower.
Alas! to think upon a child
That has no childish days,
No careless play, no frolics wild,
No words of prayer and praise.
Man from the cradle, 'tis too soon
To earn their daily bread,
And heap the heat and toil
Upon an infant's head.
To labour ere their strength be come,
Or starve—such is the doom
That makes of many an English home,
One long and living tomb.

This is no overcharged picture: many a cottage in our villages—many a court in our cities, attest its truth. Example is the influence of a Sovereign; and Royal sympathy will avail to draw that attention which is the harbinger of remedy. In the education of the poor lies the true preservative against the worst ills of want. The first steps towards this object must be taken by the rich; this brings the two classes together, and for their mutual benefit. Indifference is startled out of selfish indulgence—and ignorance awakened into hope. Instruction forms the habit, and lays open the resource—while the schemes that originated in pity will be matured by thought; for to effect the beneficial result, it is the mind that must direct the heart.