AND this was she! the peerless and the bright,
The false world's darling! she who did possess,
(And held awhile in Europe's dazzled sight,)
Glorious in majesty and loveliness,
The Heaven-lent pow'r to ruin or to bless!
Yes,--this was she!--But mark ye, I beseech,
Who love the world,--mark this mute wretchedness,
And grave it on your hearts, for it doth reach
To regions unexplor'd by eloquence of speech!
Nature gave loveliness, and fate gave pow'r,
And millions lavish'd incense.--Poets hung
Their amaranth garlands o'er the royal bow'r;
For Gallia's lily ev'ry lyre was strung,
Pride of all eyes, and theme of ev'ry tongue:--
Love, awe, and wonder, were her ministers;
Life, and its hours, upon her fiat hung;
She held in poise a nation's hopes and fears--
Dominion, beauty, pomp, and the world's shout, were her's!
Gracious and mighty! Yet there came an hour
Of desolation; and away it swept,
In one rude whirlwind, empire, pomp, and pow'r!
O'er the fair brow the hoary winter crept
Of sorrow, not of time.--Those eyes have wept
Till grief had done with tears, and calm and cold,
Tired with its own excess, in stupor slept,
Or gazed in frozen wonder to behold
The black and hideous page of destiny unroll'd.
Yet trace these faded lines! For they impart
A tale, may do your careless bosoms good!
Muse o'er the fragments of a mighty heart,
Broken by sorrow,--ye, whose jocund mood,
Insatiate feeds on pleasure's tempting food;
Look here!--It will not harm ye, tho' your thought
Leave its gay flight to melt in pity's flood!
To each light heart, home be the lesson brought,
With what enduring bliss the world's fair smile is fraught!
And is this all? No;--ye may learn beside,
That all which fate can threaten may be borne;
To see life's blessings, one by one, subside,
Its wild extremes from tenderness to scorn,
But as the changes of an April morn!
For still she was a Queen!--and majesty
Surviv'd, tho' she, deserted and forlorn,
Save Heav'n, had ne'er a friend to lift her eye;
But Heav'n return'd the glance, and taught her how to die!