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Break not O Woman's heart, but still endure!

Methought I sate upon a lofty hill,

And watched the waves that softly kissed its side,
The air was hushed-all nature round was still,-
For summer's glorious gates were open wide,
And bright the sun shone on that golden tide;
And, as I gazed, along the heaving breast

Of that fair summer sea, there seemed to glide
A fairy pinnace, all with pennons drest;

But scarce it moved, for all the winds were lulled to rest.

Upon the deck stood many a noble form,

Man in his pride of strength and woman fair;
Lightly they danced nor dreamed of coming storm;

And one far lovelier than all else was there;
Beauteous as are the glorious things of air,
That in the gorgeous pageants of a dream,
Tell us of heaven beyond this world of care;
Glorious and fleeting as the transient gleam,
That dances on the breast of some melodious stream.

But as they danced secure, above the deep
I saw the threatening thunder clouds arise,
And the long livid gloom of tempest sweep
Where even now were smiling happy skies;
And far away I heard the boding sighs

Of the pent winds, e'er with resistless force
Armed with the bolts of heaven's own armouries
And heralded by ocean music hoarse,

Like some fell host of ruin they speed their victor course.

They come and all is night that was so fair!
Deep whelmed in that wild ocean's seething breast
All, all, are sunk!-yet see one still is there,
One victim more, the last the loveliest !

Still dauntless mid the tempest's wild unrest

She stands;-'though round the hungry waters leap,
Calmly she bends her to fate's stern behest;
And now the waves in their resistless sweep

Whelm that frail bark and her in the remorseless deep.

My dream is gone! yet 'twas not all a dream,
But truth severe clad in sleep's fairy dress.—
Sweet martyred Queen! my fancy's visions seem
To shadow forth thy joys and thy distress,
And tell the stern tale of life's fickleness.
Radiant with youth and hope I see thee now,
Robed in the majesty of loveliness,

Beauty and purity throned on thy brow:

What visioned form could beam so bright so fair as thou?

Fair, in a world that seemed all fair, and gay

By paths all gay with flowers and mirth, she came;
Her Austria's love accompanied her way,

And Paris welcomed her with fond acclaim,

A daughter worthy of Theresa's name.
Cherish her well thou land of chivalry!

Be worthy of thy olden knightly fame,

Should one so young and fair have cause to sigh, Or ever tear bedim the brightness of her eye?

Oh surely from the gentle heaven above
On one as pure as heaven's own purest ray
Shall shine all blessings-children's gentle love,
Encompass her through all life's happy way,
Nor ever cloud of grief obscure her day-
A happy home, a husbands guarding arm,
A nation blessing her propitious sway—
If purity and loveliness could charm

Unpitying fate, her life were safe from every harm.

Vain hope! in our sad world all lovely things
Go hand in hand with woe-and while the sky
With the loud shout that gave her welcome rings,
Far other words I hear a savage cry

*That tears her children from her side to die,
And bitter taunts that wound her gentle breast
With worse than death-but she with flashing eye
And cheeck unblanch'd and steadfast lips comprest

Stands in heroic mien, in all a Queen confest.

"Point d' enfants," the cry of the mob at Versailles.-CARLYLE, vol. i., p. 221.

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