Epistles from Bath Or, Q.'s Letters to His Yorkshire Relations; And Miscellaneous Poems. By Q. In The Corner [i.e. N. T. H. Bayly] |
 |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 8. |
|
THE MUSE OF SORROW. |
 | Epistles from Bath |  |
THE MUSE OF SORROW.
I
Mourn , England, mourn! thy joy is passed away,Charlotte, the idol of thy hopes, is gone;
Whose virtues promised, on some future day,
To be the pride and splendour of thy throne:
The prospect of her greatness e'en outshone
The golden annals of Eliza's fame;
Her form, her mind, her manners were thine own;
A loyal People's love endeared her claim,
And every English heart exulted in her name.
51
II
But yesterday! with what delight we tracedThe future honors of her high career;
Young, beautiful, and mighty—she was placed
Apparently above the storms severe
That frown upon mankind; the warrior's spear
Was twined with olive, and the welcome strain
Of Peace and Victory resounded here:
Alas! we hoped these blessings might sustain
Through many happy years her bright, auspicious reign.
III
All that the valour of our arms has doneTo calmer moments seemed to smooth her way,
And every battle British Chiefs have won
Appeared prophetic of her tranquil sway;
This was our consolation in the day
Of darkness and of peril;—this the light,
Which, even in the midst of war's array,
Oft cheered our drooping spirits with the sight
Of joys in store for her, and laurels ever bright.
52
IV
Prosperity and peace returned again,The reign of Tyranny was overthrown,
While discontented factions strove in vain
To shade the lustre of her Father's crown:
Happy was England then! no awful frown
Forbad her ardent spirit to rejoice;
And, 'midst the martial triumphs of renown,
Were heard the nuptial song, the festive voice,
When noble Charlotte claimed the Husband of her choice.
V
To her high station and her princely birthThe Nation's homage and respect were due;
But private virtue and domestic worth
Obtained a tribute of affection too;
Those of a humbler sphere in her might view
A bright example—her delight had been
In calm serenity—but Fancy drew
Time's shadowy veil aside, and she was seen
By Hope's expectant eye Old England's future Queen.
53
VI
It was our Prayer, that when our honored guideHereafter should be lost, we might bestow
On her our love and duty, and with pride
Behold the diadem adorn her brow;
It was our Hope to have beheld her now
A happy Mother; every heart was gay,
And all combined their loyalty to shew;
The voice of revelry, the sportive lay
Echoed on every side in honor of the day.
VII
But when that day arrived, which seemed adornedWith all our hopes could paint, when joy was near,
And young and old with one fond impulse turned
To hail the Royal Infant, and to hear
Congratulations breathed; their short career
Of triumph was o'erthrown; affliction came,
By disappointment rendered more severe;
Forgotten was their hope, their pride, their fame,
They mourned their Charlotte's Death, and sorrowed o'er her name.
54
VIII
Ill-fated Mother! from life's fairest scene,In health and splendour prematurely torn;
To-day how joyous England would have been
Hadst thou been spared, hereafter to have worn
Her brilliant Crown! But though with tears we mourn
Thy early death, yet HE who gave the blow
Has also taught us how it may be borne;
HE brings us consolation, for we know
That Thou art far removed from every earthly woe.
| Epistles from Bath | |