Queen, Wife, and Mother! may All-judging Heaven 5 Shower with a bounteous hand on Thee and Thine Felicity that only can be given On earth to goodness blest by grace divine. Lady! devoutly honoured and beloved Through every realm confided to thy sway; 10 Mayst thou pursue thy course by God approved, And He will teach thy people to obey. As thou art wont, thy sovereignty adorn With woman’s gentleness, yet firm and staid; So shall that earthly crown thy brows have worn 15 Be changed for one whose glory cannot fade. And now, by duty urged, I lay this Book Before thy Majesty, in humble trust That on its simplest pages thou wilt look With a benign indulgence more than just. 20 Nor wilt thou blame an aged Poet’s prayer, That issuing hence may steal into thy mind Some solace under weight of royal care, Or grief--the inheritance of humankind. For know we not that from celestial spheres, 25 When Time was young, an inspiration came (Oh, were it mine!) to hallow saddest tears, And help life onward in its noblest aim. W.W. _9th January 1846._ [428] Compare the address presented by the Deputies of the Kingdom of Italy to Buonaparte, on Oct. 27, 1808, beginning, “Deign, Sovereign Master of all Things.”--ED. 1847 ODE, PERFORMED IN THE SENATE-HOUSE, CAMBRIDGE, ON THE 6TH OF JULY 1847, AT THE FIRST COMMENCEMENT AFTER THE INSTALLATION OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE ALBERT, CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY.[429] INSTALLATION ODE Composed 1847.--Published 1847. INTRODUCTION AND CHORUS For thirst of power that Heaven disowns, For temples, towers, and thrones, Too long insulted by the Spoiler’s shock, Indignant Europe cast Her stormy foe at last To reap the whirlwind on a Libyan rock. SOLO.--TENOR War is passion’s basest game Madly played to win a name; Up starts some tyrant, Earth and Heaven to dare; The servile million bow; But will the lightning glance aside to spare The Despot’s laurelled brow? CHORUS War is mercy, glory, fame, Waged in Freedom’s holy cause; Freedom, such as Man may claim Under God’s restraining laws. Such is Albion’s fame and glory: Let rescued Europe tell the story. RECIT. (_accompanied_).--CONTRALTO But lo, what sudden cloud has darkened all The land as with a funeral pall? The Rose of England suffers blight, The flower has drooped, the Isle’s delight, Flower and bud together fall-- A Nation’s hopes lie crushed in Claremont’s desolate hall. AIR.--SOPRANO