Classic Poem

I

Daughter and Mother of a line of kings,
With Heaven's morning light upon thy brow,
Who didst ordain thy earthly dower
Of golden fame and sovereign power
To him who wields old England's sceptre now,
Be with him in this hour,
This royal hour, — wafted on angel wings,
Superb, supreme, imperial, — that brings
His consecration to the Right Divine
That once was thine!
And thou, O England, from thy furthest bound,
And from the inmost depth of thy great heart,
Pour forth thy gladness, till his realm resound
With acclamation! He will ne'er depart
From her example, whose exalted sway, —
Like to the sun that makes and rules the day, —
Taught monarchs how to reign, and subjects to obey.

II

Hark to the joyous cry!
Round and round the world it rolls, —
From the tropics, from the poles,
Wheresoever England's royal banners fly,
And the happy echoes repeat it from the sky, —
Joy and praise that Fate's decree,
Making England great and free,
Grants a ruler such as he, —
E DWARD , whom, with one accord,
All the People hail their lord,
Placing on his head the crown
Of V ICTORIA'S renown,
And, with many a fervent prayer,
Asking God to bind it there,
And with blessing consecrate
England's King and England's State!
Hark to the joyous cry!
Crags, that tempt the eager sea,
Mountains, smiling to the morn,
Brimming rivers, flowing free,
Roses, that the meads adorn,
Clouds, that make proud Snowdon's wreath,
Waves, that kiss sweet Ireland's shore,
Winds, that blow from Scotland's heath
Blend their voices o'er and o'er,
And all the land breaks into flowers, to bless a merry throng,
And all the world is glad with hope, and jubilant with song!

III

Lo! through the vista of the storied Past
What forms come thronging, and what looks are cast
On him, by Heaven ordain'd, who grandly bears
The burden of an empire once was theirs!
With solemn passion in their awful eyes,
Spectral and cold, the phantom shapes arise!
Come, ye great kings, with more than mortal speech
Your peer to welcome and his heart to reach!
Regnant over hopes and fears,
Regnant over smiles and tears,
In your calm of wisdom come, and garner'd strength of years!
Whisper that the mountain peak
Must ever dwell alone,
But loudly of the fealty speak
That circles round his throne, —
His People's love, whatever foes assail him,
That knows him gentle, strong, and true, and nevermore will fail him!
Radiant the glories are
Your dying hands let fall,
But more resplendent far
His crown that blends them all, —
Holding your conquests and your fame enshrin'd
In the deep reverence of human kind,
Wherever nations own its mild control,
And names of glory blaze, to thrill the aspiring soul.

IV

Neither doubtful nor elate,
But calmly brave and simply great
Must be the ruler of the State,
On whom the destinies of empire wait,
When the dread Future speaks the word of Fate.
Not in the vanity of youth,
But in the ripeness of his days,
Unmoved by either blame or praise,
Knowing sorrow and knowing truth,
By wise experience school'd,
By steadfast duty rul'd,
And perfect love of his most royal mate, —
Noble, and gentle, and compassionate, —
Comes the Prince whom now we hail,
Vested with his People's might,
Foremost champion of the right,
Welding the league of nations to assail
The lingering foes of Freedom, and prevail,
Till all the earth is fair with peace, and glorious with light.

V

Peace! The holy word is said, —
Omen sacred, solemn, dread, —
In the temple of the dead!
Peace! And in his grandeur leave him,
Trusting ever, trusting all!
Let there be no doubt to grieve him,
And no idle word to vex his spirit's sacred thrall!
At the feet of God he stands,
And our hearts are in his hands.