Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1837.pdf/31

Rh

young face o’er which is only cast The delicate hues of spring, Though round her is the presence of the past, And the stern future gathers darkly fast; As yet no heavy shadow loads their wing.

A little while hast thou to be a child, Thy lot is all too high; Thy face is very fair, thine eyes are mild, But duties on thine arduous path are piled— A nation’s hopes and fears blend with thy destiny.

Change is upon the world, it may be thine To soothe its troubled way, To make thy throne a beacon and a shrine Whence knowledge, power, and liberty may shine, As yet they have not shone on mortal day.

There is much misery on this worn earth, But much that may be spared; Of great and generous thought there is no dearth, And highest hopes of late have had their birth, Hopes for the many, what the few have shared.

The wind that bears our flag from soil to soil, Teaches us as it flies; It carries in its breath a summer spoil, And seeds spring up to stimulate man’s toil, So should our mind spread round its rich supplies.

Thou, royal child, the future is thine own, May it be blessed in thee! May peace that smiles on all be round thy throne, And universal truth, whose light alone Gives golden records unto history.