ODE ON THE LAMENTED DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES AND SAXE COBOURG. Τὰ μὲν κατ' οἴκους ἐφ' ἑστίας ἄχη Τὸ πᾶν δ ̓ ἀφ ̓ Ἑλλάδος αἶας συναρμένοις Πένθεια τλησικάρδιος Δόμων ἑκάστου πρέπει.ÆSCHYL. Agamem. Now all was quiet and serene, Then, then, the hurricane arose, The dreadful tempest of our woes, The festal song is o'er The voice of mirth no more Is heard throughout the land: With quivering lips and pale, The young and old bewail The Almighty's dread command! Grim death! oh what a blow thou gavest us here! And she is nothingness, who late She realized those pleasures known But who can paint that dreadful grief The fierce, unutterable anguish, That shuddering pity must conceal : It gnaws within her widow'd consort's breast, Was it for this that Hymen join'd their hands, That when with loyal hopes all hearts were gay Alas! they're changed to funeral knells; Heard ye Again it tolls-the bell profound. Would it were fancy! but she's gone- That e'er a nation's wishes bless'd But wherefore grieve we so ? ; Angels of love, with gratulations high, The pride, or pomp of place; And every winning grace. Yet Death has dimm'd the lustre of her eyes; In lifeless loveliness his victim lies; Britannia, frantic, clasps her favourite's urn; Wit, Virtue, Beauty, for their darling mourn. But through the royal house, No loud laments arise : Silence that loathes repose There stalks with tearful eyes. Ne'er may our querulous complaints intrude On the lone mourner's sacred solitude: The flower is broken from its stem, The ring has lost its only gem: Oh! princely Claremont, wither'd be thy bowers ; Mock the self-loving fair Go, whisper in the ear of kings, Cold, voiceless, joyless, motionless-) Away, away! it is not meet A halo of eternal light: How mild her features seem, and yet how heavenly bright! LINES ΤΟ THE MEMORY OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS CANOVA. I. WHERE is he now? an awful question! where? Viewing angelic shapes more dazzling there When he would dare create, what art alone A Hebe, or a Grace without her zone, Or all that poets dream of beauty's queen, in stone. II. Whate'er of beautiful, high-minded Greece And must that master-hand for ever cease S |