So hath our happy union made

Each in the other's weal participant,

Enriching, strengthening, glorifying both.

11.

O House of Stuart, to thy memory still
For this best benefit

Should British hearts in gratitude be bound!
A deeper tragedy

Than thine unhappy tale hath never fill'd
The historic page, nor given

Poet or moralist his mournful theme!
O House severely tried,

And in prosperity alone

Found wanting, Time hath closed

Thy tragic story now!

Errors and virtues fatally betrayed,

Magnanimous suffering, vice,

Weakness, and head-strong zeal, sincere tho' blind,

Wrongs, calumnies, heart-wounds,

Religious resignation, earthly hopes

Fears and affections, these have had their course, And over them in peace

The all-engulphing stream of years hath closed.
But this good work endures,

'Stablish'd and perfected by length of days,
The indissoluble union stands.

12.

Nor hath the sceptre from that line
Departed, though the name hath lost

Its regal honours. Trunk and root have failed:
A scion from the stock

Liveth and flourisheth.

It is the Tree

Beneath whose sacred shade,

In majesty and peaceful power serene,
The Island Queen of Ocean hath her seat;
Whose branches far and near

Extend their sure protection; whose strong roots
Are with the isle's foundations interknit;
Whose stately summit when the storm careers
Below, abides unmoved,

Safe in the sunshine and the peace of Heaven!

TO A FRIEND,

ON SENDING A FANCY DRAWING, AFTER PROMISING HER OWN PICTURE IN THE CHARACTER OF

A GYPSEY.

By Lady Caroline Lambe.

THE glowing tints beneath thy care
Have traced a form divinely fair,

Have given it charms and beauties rare,
And shown the power of art;

But in the ideal head I trace,

No features of the gypsey's face,

The living smile, the nameless grace,
That nature doth impart.

Here roving looks, and eyes of fire,
Awake the soul of young desire ;-
The spells-which Beauty may inspire,
By thee are well exprest.

But soon the varying tints will fade,

And time with leaden hand shall shade,

The colours that once vivid played

In thy bright eye and breast!

So hope that paints our morning sky, When viewed with youth's unclouded eye; So pleasures airy dreams must fly

O'erpowered with care and gloom. For life's a fearful passing dream,

And those that gay and thoughtless seem, Alike sail down its swelling stream

To meet the general doom.

ON HIS MAJESTY'S RETURN TO WINDSOR

CASTLE.

By the Rev. W. Lisle Bowles.

NOT that thy name, illustrious dome, recalls
The pomp of chivalry in banner'd halls,
The blaze of beauty, and the gorgeous sights
Of heralds, trophies, steeds, and crested knights;
Not that young Surrey there beguil'd the hour
With "
eyes upturn'd unto the maiden's tower;"
Oh! not for these, the muse officious brings
Her gratulations to the best of Kings;

But that from cities and from crowds withdrawn,
Calm peace may meet him on the twilight lawn-
That here, among these grey primeval trees,
He may inhale health's animating breeze-
That these old oaks, which far their shadow cast,
May sooth him, while they whisper of the past;
And when from that proud Terrace he surveys
Slow Thames devolving his majestic maze,
(Now lost on the horizon's verge, now seen
Winding through lawns, and woods, and pastures green)