We watch’d her childhood from its earliest hour, From every word and look blest omens caught; While that young mind developed all its power, And rose to energies of loftiest thought. On her was fix’d the patriot’s ardent eye-- One hope still bloom’d, one vista still was fair; And when the tempest swept the troubled sky, She was our dayspring--all was cloudless _there_; And oh! how lovely broke on England’s gaze, E’en through the mist and storm, the fight of distant days. VII. Now hath one moment darken’d future years, And changed the track of ages yet to be!-- Yet, mortal! midst the bitterness of tears, Kneel, and adore th’ inscrutable decree! Oh! while the clear perspective smiled in light, Wisdom should _then_ have temper’d hope’s excess; And, lost One! when we saw thy lot so bright, We might have trembled at its loveliness. Joy is no earthly flower--nor framed to bear, In its exotic bloom, life’s cold, ungenial air. VIII. All smiled around thee: Youth, and Love, and Praise, Hearts all devotion and all truth were thine! On thee was riveted a nation’s gaze, As on some radiant and unsullied shrine. Heiress of empires! thou art pass’d away Like some fair vision, that arose to throw O’er one brief hour of life a fleeting ray, Then leave the rest to solitude and woe! Oh! who shall dare to woo such dreams again! Who hath not wept to know that tears for thee were vain? IX. Yet there is one who loved thee--and whose soul With mild affections nature form’d to melt; His mind hath bow’d beneath the stern control Of many a grief--but _this_ shall be unfelt! Years have gone by--and given his honour’d head A diadem of snow; his eye is dim; Around him Heaven a solemn cloud hath spread-- The past, the future, are a dream to him! Yet, in the darkness of his fate, alone[60] He dwells on earth, while thou in life’s full pride art gone! X. The Chastener’s hand is on us--we may weep, But not repine--for many a storm hath pass’d, And, pillow’d on her own majestic deep, Hath England slept, unshaken by the blast! And War hath raged o’er many a distant plain, Trampling the vine and olive in his path; While she, that regal daughter of the main, Smiled in serene defiance of his wrath! As some proud summit, mingling with the sky, Hears calmly far below the thunders roll and die. XI.