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Love bathed in Tears,

To Love cemented, ever brings

And ever bears

A chastened spirit, that in Kings,
Is noblest among earthly things.


Come lasting Love !
For Sweetness in a moment dies,

And all things prove,
That Beauty far too quickly flies
From blue, or black, or hazel eyes.


Youth is a snare;

Like an awakening dream it speeds,

Nor cries, Beware! A dream of unaccomplished deeds, A hope of undetermined creeds.


Is it Friendship then ? The Tyrant of a summer day,

The boast of men Who loiter idly on life's way, A band who neither work nor play.


Nay! Friends, though dear,
Pass on their way-change-turn aside;

A transient tear

Dims friendship's light-or some pale brideFor Love was born when Friendship died !


Thou, Grey or Gold,
Alone, Great Love, survivest all,

All else grows old ;
Their birth, their growth, their rise, their fall,
Immortal only at Thy call.


Love conquers Death,
And is Life's portal, and the Soul

Whose Heavenly breath
Inspires all Life, and ages roll
To ages, and yet leave it whole.

XI. .

Come then Great Love,
To whom none ever plead in vain,

Come from above-
Where are no sighs, no tears, no pain-
And make us pure from selfish stain.


Come, fresh as morn,
When golden sunrise laves the land,

And gilds the corn;
Come smiling—come with open hand-
That brooks no chain-owns no command.


Thy voice sounds best
When faint the weary toilers sigh,

And long for rest;
The tone is clear, but not too high,
With just one touch of mystery.


Come, calm as night,
When Dian, with her stars, looks on

A wondrous sight-
A sleeping world :-Endymion

Slept thus for thee, pale Amazon !


Be with us now;

Illume our pleasures, soothe our woes,

And teach us how
Thy sweet encircling spirit knows
The heart's unrest—the heart's repose.


Be with us now;

A Day of many-sided thought

That curves the brow

With lines of memory, interwrought With hope, and gratitude unbought.


O Queen! this Day
Thy People, generous and just,

As well they may,
Confirm anew their sacred trust
Enshrined in half a century's dust.


For fifty years Thy People's love has been content

(In spite of tears, And bitter sorrows sadly blent) To raise to Thee Love's monument.


A Trophy, based On duty done, on faction quelled,

No deed defaced By broken word, or faith withheld, No foe by stratagem compelled.


Not stone or brass,
These perish with the flight of Time,

And quickly pass ;
But Love endures in every clime,
Eternal as the Poet's rhyme.


Not brass or stone,

These will corrode, and some day die,

But Love alone

Laughs at decay, and soars on highIn fragrant immortality.


Thy Royal Robe
Is starred by Love: its purple Hem

Surrounds the Globe :

But true Love is the fairest Gem

Of Thy Imperial Diadem.


Queen of the Sea !
What prouder title dignifies

A Monarchy ?
The Orient owns it, and it lies
Amidst Thy countless Colonies;

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