1871

In the drear November gloom
And the long December night,
There were omens of affright,
And prophecies of doom;
And the golden lamp of life burn'd spectre-dim,
Till Love could hardly mark
The little sapphire spark
That only made the dark
More dark and grim.

There not around alone
Watch'd sister, brother, wife,
And she who gave him life,
White as if wrought in stone
Unheard, invisible, by the bed of death
Stood eager millions by;
And as the hour drew nigh,
Dreading to see him die,
Held their breath.

Where'er in world-wide skies
The Lion-Banner burns,
A common impulse turns
All hearts to where he lies:--
For as a babe the heir of that great throne
Is weak and motionless;
And they feel the deep distress
On wife and mother press,
As 'twere their own.

O! not the thought of race
From Asian Odin drawn
In History's mythic dawn,
Nor what we downward trace,
--Plantagenet, York, Edward, Elizabeth,--
Heroic names approved,--
The blood of the people moved;
But that, 'mongst those he loved,
He fought with death.

And if the Reason said
''Gainst Nature's law and death
Prayer is but idle breath,'--
Yet Faith was undismayed,
Arm'd with the deeper insight of the heart:--
Nor can the wisest say
What other laws may sway
The world's apparent way,
Known but in part.

Nor knew we on that life
What burdens may be cast;
What issues wide and vast
Dependent on that strife:--
This only:--'Twas the son of those we loved!
That in his Mother's hand
Peace set her golden wand;
'Mid heaving realms, one land
Law-ruled, unmoved.

--He fought, and we with him!
And other Powers were by,
Courage, and Science high,
Grappling the spectre grim
On the battle-field of quiet Sandringham:
And force of perfect Love,
And the will of One above,
Chased Death's dark squadrons off,
And overcame.

--O soul, to life restored
And love, and wider aim
Than private care can claim,
--And from Death's unsheath'd sword!
By suffering and by safety dearer made:--
O may the life new-found
Through life be wisdom-crown'd,--
Till in the common ground
Thou too art laid!