THE ROSE, THE SHAMROCK,

AND

THE THISTLE.

FEBRUARY 1864.

THE BIRTH OF A SON TO THE HEIR-APPARENT. JANUARY VIII., MDCCCLXIV.

I.

THERE were swift but silent footsteps, and they hurried to and fro;

There were eager orders spoken, but in voices whisp'ring low;
It had come, the hour of peril; it had thrill'd them with surprise,
And each one, as counsel asking, look'd in the other's eyes.-
A sudden flush of transport, and an icy pang of fear,

A terror struggling with fond hopes, as drew the crisis near:
It had come, the hour of anguish that precedes a mother's joy,
And His messenger unseen was there, to save or to destroy.

It had come, the dreaded moment, and they watch'd and waited nigh,
Pale, trembling, hush'd and list'ning, when they heard a wailing cry:
O blessed sound, a child was born! O welcome gift, an Heir!
And up to heav'n the Angel bore, a Husband's, Father's pray'r.

THEN flash'd the tidings o'er the wires, beneath the clouds of night,
The tidings that to England's Queen, brought solace and delight:
She knew, and thrill'd with joy to know, Her first-born Son, a Sire,
She learn'd that God had deign'd to crown the Nation's haught desire;
And, glowing with maternal love nor less with kingly pride,
Swift o'er the waves She hurried to Her dear-lov'd daughter's side:

VOL. IV.

With crimson'd cheek and beaming eye, possest with feelings new,
All breathless to His Mother's arms, the youthful Father flew,
And folded to that throbbing breast stirr'd with deep thankfulness,
Pour'd forth, in broken words and sweet, His grateful joy's excess.

II.

RING out, ring out mad merry peals from tow'r and belfry gray;
Unfurl the banner of the Realm, and bid the trumpets bray;
Let bonfires blaze; and hymns be heard; and blent with cannon's roar,
The thunder of our Seas proclaim the news from shore to shore,-
To Peasant's hearth, to Burgher's home, to old baronial Halls,-
To the Camp and to the Barracks, and on board the Wooden-walls;
From east to west, from south to north, o'er mountain, moor, and mead,
O'er land and sea, through town and shire, swift, let the tidings speed.
O, let the Rose of Albion bloom more brightly on its stem;
More proudly, Scotia's Thistle lift its purple diadem;

And glitt'ring as with holy tears, the mystic leaves of green,
The Shamrock of lov'd Erin's Isle, the triple-gem be seen;
While, heard in Cambria's fastnesses and ringing through her vales,
Llywellyn's Harp in triumph strain salutes the Prince of Wales.

III.

As o'er the woods and cliffs and streams, red with the rising sun, Through the broad Isles rolls far and wide the booming of the gun; As flutters on the ocean-breeze, the Flag to vict'ry dear;

As babbling bells with clangour sweet, break on the startled ear,
And mingling, in the house of GOD, thanksgiving, pray'r and praise,
As burning incense offer'd up, unnumber'd voices raise,

O, ENGLAND'S WIDOW'D MAJESTY, Thy people give Thee joy,
And turn'd to Thee, is every heart that greets the princely Boy:
Look forth! beneath Thy palace-walls, rejoicing throngs appear;
List louder than rude surges' roar, the shouts that fill the ear:

THE BIRTH OF A SON TO THE HEIR-APPARENT.

339

Behold! with vet'ran troops allied, march England's Volunteers,
And high above the roll of drums, ascend their ringing cheers;
They come, they come, with martial tread, with blithe exultant mien;
They halt, they turn; and rends the air, the cry, God save the Queen!
On, on they press, the rich the poor, the lowly and the proud,

All ranks, all ages fraternize, and speak their hopes aloud.

These gath'ring crowds, these pealing bells, these deaf'ning shouts declare How welcome to the Nation's heart, the Crown's presumptive Heir.

LIEGE LADY!

IV.

SOV'REIGN of our love, not robed in pall of state

So dear as in the weeds of woe that mark'd Thee desolate,

We made Thy bitter sorrow ours; we gave Thee tear for tear,

And shall we not Thy gladness share who shared Thy pang severe :
No limit hath the homage due-the rev'rent sympathy-

To Her whose rule benignant sways the proud, the brave, the free.
No slavish fear, no base design, no calculation mean,

No trait'rous project hides beneath the smiles that hail our Queen;
In all that moves Her mighty soul and melts Her woman's heart,
Her joy, Her glory, anguish, grief, 'tis ours to claim a part:
Lo, we have mourn'd as they who mourn a mother's with'ring pain;
Lo, we have, pining, waited long for joy to come again :
'Watchman, what of the night ?" we ask: light in the skies afar,
And rising o'er the fleeting shades, behold! a brilliant star.-
Potent to comfort, HE who spake and winds and sea grew calm;
And for the cleft and broken heart, HE sends a healing balm;
In the deep suff'ring of Thy soul, sweet consolations Thine;
Thy Children worthy of their Sire; and blest Thy Royal Line;
Thy Crown, its heritage assur'd; Thy mighty realm at peace;
And Thine, O Queen! a Nation's love that grows with time's increase :
Still more to charm Thy lingering grief, to joyful thoughts restore,
GOD gives Thy princely Heir, a son, and bids Thy cup flow o'er.

BE GLAD, O, Lady of the Isles, lift up Thy pensive brow,
And pour the sunshine of Thy smiles upon Thy people now.

V.

SON of "HER HUSBAND, GREAT and good,'

"* rever'd VICTORIA'S Heir, In whom rare fruits of culture speak Thy Royal Father's care, Youth, pleasures, riches, honours, Thine; to reign, thy destiny; O PRINCE! earth's purest happiness now heav'n bestows on Thee. SMILE PRINCESS, lov'd and loving, smile through tears of trancing joy, Joy such as only mothers know; yea, bliss without alloy :

Smile, fearless smile! we owe Thee thanks, deep gratitude, and love; A debt supreme, acknowledg'd here and register'd above.

AND Thou, fair Babe, safe pillow'd on that proud and gladden'd breast, CHILD OF OUR HOPES, to Empire born, O, be thy slumbers blest.

ELIZABETH SHERIDAN CAREY.

Jan. 16, 1864.

* Words inscribed by the WIDOW of PRINCE ALBERT on the Mausoleum erected by HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, in honour of Her Royal and bitterly lamented Consort. -E. S. C.

THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF
JACOB MORRISTON.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

DOROTHY AND MISS THORNTON COMPARE NOTES; AND JACOB ONCE MORE SHOULDERS HIS KNAPSACK.

"WELL, Dorothy, and what conclusion have you arrived at concerning your most faithful lover, William Tunster?" inquired Lucy, in her sweet musical voice.

"If I say that I wish to leave you?" Dorothy replied, looking at her mistress, with a serious face.

"Nothing will surprise me, Dorothy; what other effect it may have I am not prepared to say."

"My mother-you know how she grieves after the old place," said Dorothy.

Lucy nodded her head pensively, as a gleam of sunshine stole past the satin curtains, and lit up her fair and thoughtful face.

"But I give you pain!" said Dorothy, who could detect any change that passed over Lucy's face.

"No, no," said Lucy; "go on."

"Will has taken the old house-they have let it to him as an especial favour, though it will not be wanted any more for a keeper, because they are going to cut a railway a quarter of a mile above it," said Dorothy, making an effort to say what she had to say rapidly, and get it over, as the phrase is.

Lucy saw her embarrassment, and with womanly instinct and sympathy, interpreted what Dorothy wished to say. "And you think you will say 'yes' to Will's proposition, and leave this fine city, and settle down into a quiet country wife? You are right, Dorothy: Will deserves to have such an answer, and you will be happy."

I need not dwell longer upon this part of the conversation. Dorothy, who had loved deeply and well, when she was a girl, and had mourned, for years, the loss of her lover, had at length found that she had not really broken her heart; and as Will Tunster had offered, if she could not give him her whole heart, to take whatever there was left, she had, at length, given way, and consented to make Will happy for the remainder of his days, which, taking the average rates of mortality, were not likely to be a great number; for hale and hearty as Will looked, he was more than forty, and I question whether Dorothy was younger than Will, though she looked his junior by several years. Dorothy thought she had been influenced to a great extent by her mother, who, since she