Page:Alexandrina Victoria - 18th Birthday Tribute.pdf/11

 With the golden sunbeam shining Round the Abbey's towers, Stands that stately pile enshrining England's noblest hours, There they rest its honour'd dead. There the trophies of our annals Fling their shade below, Flags that in our English channels Once announced a foe, Now in triumph are they spread. ‘Tis no lesson taught in vain, So would millions die again.

In those ancient chancels slumber As within a shrine, Men whom history loves to number On her sacred line, Men who leave themselves behind; Statesmen holding yet dominion With their fellow-men; By the empire of opinion, Ruling them again: For immortal is the mind, And a thoughtful truth maintains Whatsoever ground it gains.