University of Virginia Library


58

THE PEERLESS ROSE OF KENT.

When beauty, youth, and innocence,
In one fair form are blent,
And that fair form our vestal Queen,
The peerless Rose of Kent,

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Say, where's the Briton's heart so cold—
The Briton's soul so dead,
As not to pour out ardent prayers
For blessings on her head?
This is the day,—the joyous day,—
That sees our lady crown'd,
Hence, may not one disloyal heart,
In Albion's Isles be found;
But may she find in every breast
An undisputed throne,
And o'er a gallant people reign,
Whose hearts are all her own.
For ne'er did woman's hand more fair
The regal sceptre hold,
And ne'er did brow more spotless wear
The coronal of gold;
And ne'er beneath the purple robe
Did purer bosom beat;
So ne'er may truer lieges kneel
A lovelier Queen to greet.
May every blessing from above,
On Kent's fair Rose descend,
While wisdom, dignity, and grace,
On all her steps attend.
Still may she wear fair Virtue's bloom,
Throughout a happy reign,
And long be hail'd the “Queen of Isles”—
Fair Mistress of the Main!