"You ask me why, though ill at ease "Of old sat freedom on the heights". TO THE QUEEN. REVERED, beloved,-O you that hold Than arms, or power of brain, or birth, Victoria, since your Royal grace This laurel greener from the brows And should your greatness, and the care Then-while a sweeter music wakes, And through wild March the throstle calls, Take, Madam, this poor book of song; And leave us rulers of your blood May children of our children say, 66 She wrought her people lasting good; 1 VOL. I. |
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