Classic Poem

XXI.

Some tears she sheds, she trembles, turns away,
Then yields her presence at her sire's command.
The volume falls abandoned where it lay
A moment past in her attentive hand.

XXII.

The Queen, in robes of state and royal halls,
Glides trembling back with memory's swift career,
With inward voice upon the past she calls,
And wondering feels that she must learn to fear.

XXIII.

She thinks, — " O! Teacher, gentle, vast, sublime,
Strange lesson this for one upheld by thee;
But thou hast help for man's most adverse time,
And in worst bondage aidest to be free.

XXIV.

" Yet while I look within me wisdom fails,
I seem all dark and weak, an erring child,
When most I need it least thy lore avails,
And Truth's pure brightness shows me all defiled. "

XXV.

Low drooped her brow, when trembling through the air
A sweet-voiced hymn was gently borne along;
Perhaps an angel's music warbled there,
Or human echoes of angelic song.