EDWARD C. ALDEN 39
SHE, on whose wide domains the sun ne'er set,
Sinks, like the sun, lost only to our gaze,
While still the undimmed lustre of her rays
Shines in some fair far realm undreamt of yet.
And, just as when the bright orb sinks below
The distant west, dark shadows sweep the scene,
Till the new glory of the afterglow
The lingering radiance of what once has been
Fills all the sky and gilds the shimmering sea ;
So, dark as now the landscape seems to be,
Soon shall the hours bring back the golden sheen,
And in an age-long afterglow of glory
Our Empire's sons shall read the splendid story
Of England's greatest, best, and noblest Queen.
EDWARD C. ALDEN.
40 THOMAS HANNAN
THE Queen is dead ! To earth is lost a life
Of majesty, with love and goodness blent,
From breath of evil pure, and nobly spent
Firm friend, wise Queen, kind mother, and
good wife !
Hush'd is the voice of joy ; the sound of strife
Is faint; and feelings, which have grown
In one long quiv'ring sob of grief find vent ;
And pray'rs and sighs in loving hearts are rife.
The earthly crown is lifted from her brow,
On which it rested, glorious and unstain'd,
Through three and three-score long, eventful
The soul is free from earthly cares, and now
Her country mourns her loss. But she has
A Crown of Life, amidst a Nation's tears !
KEBLE HOWARD 41
HALF-MAST the flag :
A sorrowing nation weeps.
Muffle the bells :
The Mother of England sleeps.
Her hands are crossed :
Those hands that now for three-and-sixty years
The kingdom's sceptre lovingly have wielded
Are crossed in death : God, dry the nation's
And take our Mother dear, whose task is
Whose hands are crossed.
Her eyes are closed :
Those eyes that laughed when ours with joy
That dimmed with tears when ours were dull
Are closed in death : God, make our darkness
And wake our Mother to a glad to-morrow
Whose eyes are closed.
42 MOTHER OF ENGLAND SLEEPS
Her heart is still :
That heart whose bursting love knew no relief
In peace, in war, at night, when day was
Is still in death : God, soothe a nation's grief
And stir Her heart again in Heaven's
That heart now still.
Her work is done :
That work of which none other knew the
The work she bravely faced and feared it
Ends but in death : God, help our orphaned
And take our Mother to Thy rest for ever
Whose work is done.
Half-mast the flag :
A sorrowing nation weeps.
Muffle the bells :
The Mother of England sleeps.
B. FLETCHER ROBINSON 43
AND so she sleeps the Mother of the Race
That waxed more mighty with her growing
And saw reflected in her loving face
Their hopes and fears.
Our gracious pilot, steadfast in the roar
Of warring waters, calm when storms had
Mourned as no monarch has been mourned
She leaves her post at last.
In her we saw our Duty ; less a Queen
Was she than guide to help; to teach, to
A foe to all things cowardly, base and mean,
A friend to all things pure.
My people, my dear people that alone
Stood in her thoughts, and when we cried
44 THE MOTHER QUEEN
She rose a loving woman from her throne,
And was our comforter,
Till last no heart but answered. Were she glad
With joyous tidings, when her people knew
They sprang to greet her ; were our lady sad,
We gave her reverence due.
And often when there blazed the sudden rage
That fighting forbears left us, with a hand
Gentle, yet firm, she did our wrath assuage,
That Peace might keep the land.
Thus was she held, and thus it came that those
She ruled beyond our coasts did grow to
Their races, till to all her foes were foes,
A friend to her, their friend.
And now she sleeps ; the lady that we love
Goes from us, hangs deep sorrow o'er the
We pray that she, now in her home above,
Can see and understand.
B. FLETCHER ROBINSON,
ROBERT P. DOWNES 45
HUSH ! let the land be quiet, for she sleeps
Whom we have loved so well.
Hush ! while each mourner some sweet memory
And solemn requiems swell.
" Glory to God," we cry, while tear-drops start,
" Glory to God for such a noble heart."
Our dear Queen-mother has gone home to rest
Her cares of empire cease ;
Called to the happy regions of the blest,
She dwells in perfect peace,
No battle cry assails her in the land
Where sainted souls in fadeless glory stand.
Ours is the sorrow, hers the great reward
Christ gives unto His own ;
Ours is the travail, hers the welcome word,
" Servant of God, well done."
Rich was the diadem she has laid down,
But in God's light she wears a nobler crown.
ROBERT P. DOWNES.
46 "IT IS WELL"
"JEt fa mell."
LAUDES Christo, Deo gloria,
Vivat in ealo Victoria !
She is gone,
But only taken
From our sad expectant sight
Out of this o'er-troubled night ;
While we stray and stumble on,
All her heart doth now awaken.
Now her head
Is upraised above the gleaming
Of false lights that beacon wrong,
Prophets vain or siren song,
And she reigns indeed at length
In the calm of conscious strength
We are dead,
And we are dreaming.
Ilicet! Her work is finished,
And we murmur " It is well ! "
Though we mourn her passing knell ;
She has wrought
Long and lovingly, and nought
Need be added or diminished.
Ah ! her travail was not wasted,
Children's children who have tasted
F. HARALD WILLIAMS 47
Of its golden fruits shall bless it,
Hail the charters
Sealed with blood
Wrung by soldiers brave and martyrs
From the battlefield or flood
Nunc in pace requiescit !
She has heard the Master's voice
Through the falling
Shadows, and she had no choice,
Though the pathway looked so dim,
But to rise and follow Him.
For a little she has left us
And bereft us
Of the guidance that was good,
'Stablished in the faith that must
Bud and blossom in the dust,
And made fair by womanhood.
Nothing little, nothing mean
Dimmed the lustre of that life
With the common or unclean ;
She was raised beyond our strife,
By the glory that is Love
Grandly lit from founts above.
She was humble, she was stately,
Simplest deed she did it greatly ;
48 "IT IS WELL"
Every burden that she bore,
Counting not the pangs and prices,
And her willing sacrifices,
Needed then be done no more.
When she spoke. in judgment plain
Quiet words or Queenly sentence,
After her none spoke again,
And her acts asked no repentance.
Kings came to her as a Mother,
Governments and dynasties,
Pomps and principalities
Bowed to her as to no other ;
And the mourner would she wean
From a suffering truly known,
By the measure of her own
Nations upon her did lean.
Is she dead ?
Nay, she is living
Now her beautiful pure part
In the homage of each heart,
Broadened by her gracious giving,
Brightened by each word she said.
Best of women,
Wives and mothers,
Through these wondrous eighty years,
She shall never, never die ;
F. HARALD WILLIAMS 49
Time, that smites the base and smothers
In oblivion without tears,
Shall but strengthen as for no men
Memory's true and grateful tie.
In our chronicles the pages
Written by her sweet white hand
Need no courtly turns or glosses ;
All may there unstained stand
All go down the endless ages ;
Loves and losses,
Cares and crosses
Are her milestones through this land.
She, who ruled bereaved and lone
In the tumult of the town,
Once the splendour of the Throne,
Now puts on a heavenly crown.
Laudes Christo, Deo gloria,
Vivat in ccelo Victoria !
F. HARALD WILLIAMS.
5 o VICTORIA'S DEID
MOURN wives and weans and sons o' men
In city street and lonely glen,
As ye gang but, and syne gang ben,
King, hing the heid ;
In days to come, hoo will ye fen ?
A guid, guid Queen she was to a'
In theekit cot and castle ha' ;
For folk at hame and far awa'
Her heart wad bleed ;
Her life was like the driven snaw
But noo she's deid.
She loved the pure and shunned the mean
Her like before was never seen ;
A' Scottish hearts are wae, I ween,
And dull as lead :
We've lost a mither and a Queen
JOSEPH WRIGHT 51
Victoria's gane, and left us a',
We're no the same noo she's awa' ;
At early morn, at gloamin' fa',
We bear the dreid,
Oor hearts are fu' o' wae and awe
Bin a' she lo'ed auld Scotland weel,
She kent that Scottish hearts were leal,
And aye to her were true as steel
On hill or mead ;
Noo we ha'e lost a frien', atweel :
Blaw snell and keen thou bitter blast,
Gather ye clouds, the sky o'ercast,
Hang a' your banners at half-mast,
It's past remead :
Fa', fa' ye snowflakes thick and fast
5 a SUNSET
THE glorious sunset of a glorious reign :
" Dead ! with the sceptre in Her Royal hand
Not slowly wasted with a mortal pain ! "
The fatal news is flashed o'er sea and land,
From the cold North to the hot Southern plain,
From the far West to India and Cathay,
And dusky millions hear the sad refrain :
" Britain's belove'd Queen lies dead to-day ! "
The soldier sheathes his sword ; the sailor bold
That ploughs the main, and they that plough
Or labour at the loom, their hand withhold
At the dire news, and ceasing from their toil,
From the swart cheek they brush the tears away :
" Britain's belove'd Queen lies dead to-day ! "
ABRAHAM STANSFIELD 53
A mighty Queen and yet a monarch mild,
Ruling the widest Empire upon earth ;
Dear to the heart of every English child,
Throned in the hearts of all of British birth !
The Mother of Her People ! and the Pride
Of a proud Nation that doth nations breed ;
This stormy England, with the Sea for Bride
Now Britain's lofty Head lies low indeed !
A marvellous Reign in a more marvellous time,
When sixty years a hundred centuries span,
When human science, with a power sublime,
Catches a glimpse of giant Nature's plan ;
The Age Victorian swallows up the Past !
But Britain's honoured Head lies low, at last !
54 A PEOPLE'S TEARS
HEAVY and dark beneath the murky night
Swells Britain's trouble in a windless pause.
None listens for the echoes of far fight,
None feels the care which at his own heart
Sudden the laugh sickened, and fled the smile ;
For Nature had remembered her slow laws,
Never repealed, as we had dreamed the while.
The sun, whose rise we saw not, had to set,
The immeasurable distance was a mile,
And we have past the stone, and travel yet,
But feel no motion ; every sense is numb,
Brain has forgot to govern, nerves to fret ;
Hope hopes not, and fear fears not, what may
The Past is all, and all the Past is past.
Victoria lies dead. Britain is dumb.
E. J. PALMER 55
Yet listen. Was not that a sound at last ?
No words, but there is something that one
The breath comes harder, the heart beats more
And in the silence fall the few first tears.
Not long ; heaped memory too hotly glows ;
The words flame out against half-listening ears :
" She wept when we wept, and in all our woes
She bowed her head and took her Royal part.
In utmost age she could not bear repose
Till she had made us feel she felt our smart.
Anon thy people's praise, O Queen ; to-night
Accept thy people's tears, O mother heart ! "
E. J. PALMER.
56 SHE SLEEPS
THE vision pales and dies
Which gladdened long our eyes,
Great majesty in womanhood enshrining ;
She passes to her rest,
Victoria the Blest,
Her crown with a diviner lustre shining ;
And, while her stricken people weep,
She lays her sceptre down, and falls asleep.
Hush ! She is sleeping now
Smooth is the wrinkled brow
Closed are her eyes by Death's caressing
Calm is the white, wan face,
Where the endearing grace
Of motherhood and widowhood still
lingers. . . .
ROBERT DENNIS 57
Silence the trumpet and the bell !
The Queen doth slumber wake her not!
all's well !
Lo, where the pale North Star
Rides in his sable car,
Pointing to man the way o'er land and
There is the symbol seen
Of her, the great, good Queen,
Who guided us with single-souled devo-
A star whose clear and steadfast rays
Illumed our faltering steps and charted all our
Her gentle spirit drew,
As doth the sun the dew,
Our hearts to her, alike in joy and sorrow ;
And when the daylight died
She took our hands and cried,
" Be of good cheer, there is a bright to-
morrow ! "
She was our Mother then, and more,
And loved us as no sons were ever loved
58 SHE SLEEPS
But when, at war's alarms,
She called her sons to arms,
Then was she Queen, defiant, lion-hearted :
Then was she King and Lord,
Girt with her Empire's sword ;
Seaward the lightnings of her legions
War-worn they came again to her,
Who was their sovereign balm and sweetest
Not as we bring the bloom
To deck her kingly tomb
Shall we survey the splendour of her glory ;
But in the after-years,
When pride hath dried our tears,
Our children shall be told her wondrous
Now let her rest, in Jesus sleeping
God guard her ever in His holy keeping !
F. B. DOVETON 59
THE world without the sun's most blessed light
How the cheek pales at that imagined gloom !
Woods, valleys, meadows, plunged in sudden
When the black heavens seem all fraught
So now the night of sorrow darkens o'er
The land whose crowning glory is no more.
We think of more than sixty years ago,
The fair young girl awakened from her dreams
To find a Kingdom waiting her and lo !
A very Queen though but a child she seems ;
We see her kneel alone in silent prayer,
And meekly rise an ancient Crown to wear.
60 THE NIGHT OF SORROW
And she has worn it nobly all the years,
Her hopes were all fulfilled Her prayers
were heard ;
Sharing her people's gladness, and their tears,
By all their griefs her Mother's heart was
As Queen and friend alike, alone she stood,
Our well beloved Victoria the Good !
In cot and palace there is weeping now,
She is at Peace unbroken is her rest ;
A holier diadem now decks her brow,
Within the shining mansions of the Blest.
All eyes are wet we speak with bated breath
The land is lying in the shade of Death.
F. B. DOVETON.
ANNIE MATHESON 61
Now free at last from all the weight of care,
The mighty service of Imperial state,
The toil that toiled all day and did not spare,
Till sunset late,
With age and love, dear Queen, alike thou art
In wisdom robed, resplendent of array !
All kindreds of the earth with sorrow surround
Thy going away !
Good servant of the Universal Lord,
Whose loving arms His weary child receive,
Well didst thou guard the sceptre and the sword
From morn till eve !
Now crabbed Time's laborious ledgered tome
Thy faithful hand from writing will release :
Love opens wide the welcome door of Home
And Perfect Peace.
62 THE QUEEN'S SUMMONS
Gone out of sight who knit our world in one,
Whose name above the noise of faction stood
For chivalry and noble benison
Of womanhood !
The sun upon her empire went not down
Still rising even when it seemed to set :
Of love and liberty she wrought its crown
And amulet !
Simple through greatness, motherly and wise,
With will immovable in dauntless love !
Sweet majesty was shining in her eyes,
Eagle and dove !
The poverty and grief that tyrants grind,
To her were royal in divine appeal
She sought, with all the powers of heart and
To help and heal.
Her children and her children's children bless
The hand that England's cup with blessing
Some " were not, for Love took them." Love
The pain He willed !
ANNIE MATHESON 63
God-given joy in God she has at last
With him to whom she was true lover and wife,
Crowned now for ever (all the parting past)
With love and life !
She wrought for peace, yet, through her tears,
A sterner duty son and grandson given !
Flames rive the heart that must an empire weld,
And hers was riven.
For us and for our loss she deigned to weep,
With tender thought of many a soldier's grave,
Yet hid within her soul the anguish deep
Of all She gave.
Here in her central kingdom, England's heart
Red rose, Welsh plume, rough thistle, sham-
Of daily life and love she seemed a part,
"The good, great Queen ! "
And when She called them, north, south, east,
To England's flag in Her dear name unfurled,
64 THE EMPRESS-MOTHER
Men leaped into the saddle and gave their best
Through all the world.
Oh ! how they loved her, those Colonial boys,
Flinging their lives into the jaws of death,
Nor grudged, amid their youth, with all its joys,
Their parting breath !
Her brave Canadian children far away,
New Zealand and Australia host on host
The flower of manhood, daring day by day
Their uttermost !
From India and the Cape and staunch Natal,
Rose in her honour stalwart sons who fight
For civic freedom, England's coronal
And ancient right.
Nor only war-accoutred ranks, not less,
Her great civilian army far and near
Statesmen and ploughmen, swift her name to
All held her dear :
Thousands, in courage most magnificent,
Who risk their rough hard lives in daily toil
Where lurking death or maiming accident
Their labours foil ;
ANNIE MATHESON 65
Miners and sailors, drudging factory-slaves,
And brave physicians wrestling hand to hand
With cruel forces that are digging graves
In every land.
All were her knights, for still in Her they saw
The truth and courage that will never blench
But will the lowliest life with holy awe
" The Queen, God bless her ! " and for her dear
The King and Queen, her children, whom we
The closer to the Empire's love, and sing
On Breton harp that mourned with broken
While prayerful memories of " King Arthur "
" God bless the King ! God help and
guide the King ! "
66 IN LOVING MEMORY
THE days, the years, the centuries decay,
Decease, and pass away ;
And we, whose brief lives fleeting seem
No longer than a dream,
Fade and decease as they.
Virtue, nor piety, nor regal State,
Nor all a nation's prayers can delay
The pitiless march of Fate.
We have our destined term, both small and
We fade, and pass away.
Belov'd thin-drawn life, who now at last,
Life's chequered fortunes past,
Ceasing from care and labours nobly borne,
Hast entered willing on thy well-earned rest ;
Who, longest of all Monarchs of our race,
SIR LEWIS MORRIS 67
Unmatched in dignity and grace,
Thy pure, untarnished Diadem hast worn ;
Not pitiable thou, but blest,
Such weight of anxious cares thou layest down
With thy sad earthly crown ;
A woman vowed to duty, lonely, tried,
Unhelped, with no protecting arm to guide,
Thro' many a civil broil, and storm of war
Thou showest a single star
Shining serene above the gathering strife,
The clouds, the troubles of thy people's life ;
For thee to-day thy countless millions yearn
With hearts and lips that burn.
From North to South, from East to West,
Where'er thy gracious Empire is confest,
O'er every subject land, o'er all the Earth ;
Thy Austral-Britain newly come to birth ;
Thy great Dominion of the snow-clad North ;
Thy tropic isles ; thy Orient's storied plain,
From the Himalayan peaks to the blue surge-
O'er that new realm, scarce won by British
Swept still by hopeless war's retreating flood ;
All know and mourn thee, and revere
Their Queen and hold thee dear
68 IN LOVING MEMORY
Who know in her, as we,
A righteous life unstained, a blessed memory !
But nearer than their homage, and more dear
To every loyal ear
Than titular splendours or Imperial State,
Sounds thy new name, which loving hearts
" The Mother ! " this the universal word
By which all hearts, all hues, all creeds are
" The Mother ! " Not from suffering lives alone
Flinging (heir sorrows down before thy throne
In this sad, toil-worn Britain, but where'er,
In either hemisphere,
By palm or pine, tropic or Arctic sky,
Our English standards fly,
Or that great West, thy grand sire's stubborn
Lost, by thee re-allied ;
This welds the race in one, this name can bind
The peoples, heart and mind,
This symbol of Imperial Unity
Which links, yet leaves men free.
To-day the golden cord is loosed at last
Which long time bound men fast.
The star is set, which in the East, long time,
SIR LEWIS MORRIS
Men gazing, held sublime !
Ah ! be it thine ! pure heart and steadfast will !
To guide our Britain still.
The Times are restless, the unquiet Earth
Moves to some new mysterious birth ;
The curse of war still vexes, and our race
Seems sinking to disgrace.
For peace the widow and the orphan cry,
With torture-pains Christ's innocent martyrs die.
Thou who hast known so many a piercing pain,
Love, children, children's children, wept in vain,
Friend following friend, and thou still left alone
Upon thy lonely throne ;
Who mournedst last, thy people's life-blood shed,
Their high, their lowly, manhood, maimed and
Think of us still, if God so wills, and plead !
As daily thou wert wont indeed,
For this thy people which must toil and bleed.
Plead thou for Peace for all the suffering Earth
Till comes at last Man's new Millennial Birth ;
Plead, tender, aged voice, till all is well !
Friend ! Sovereign ! Mother ! Oh, Farewell !
70 KATHLEEN HAYDN GREEN
SLEEP now and take thy rest sleep well, great
An Empire's tears about thy tomb are shed
In costly homage ; while with hush'd sad tread
The universe draws near with reverent mien
Viewing thy obsequies. O ! thou hast been
Our Sovereign and our mother! Thou hast
Great wings of love about the world, and fed
Thy people from thy heart's great depths
Thou passest hence ; but there abide with us
Unchanged through all the changes of all time,
Thy name beloved, thy mem'ry glorious
These these ! remain a monument sublime
Reared in thy people's hearts to stand for aye,
And crowned with that great word :
" VICTORIA ! "
KATHLEEN HAYDN GREEN.
J. MOUNTAIN 71
SLEEP, noble Queen ! Thy care and sorrow
Closed are thine eyes that oft for sufferers
Low lies thy head, by all thine Empire tended ;
Stilled is thy heart its solemn charge that
Leave thou thy crown unsullied and un-
Thou hast adorned it by thy life so pure ;
Take thou the crown by heavenly lustre
Christ giveth those who patiently endure.
Thou art not dead ; thou livest on for ever,
Radiant in mansions of eternal day ;
And from our hearts thy memory fadeth never ;
Thy People's love enshrines it there for aye.
72 SLEEP, NOBLE QUEEN!
Heaven's perfect peace through Jesus Christ
Clad in the robe of His own spotlessness ;
Ne'er canst thou fail to think of us, still
Loving Christ more thou wilt not love us less.
Queen of all queens ! To us may grace be
Like thee to learn whence all true greatness
Chains which would bind to self and sin be
Bound by the love of Christ, the King of
Sleep, noble Queen ! Farewell, but not for
Thy mantle fall on our succeeding King !
And when we all are called from earth to sever,
God in His grace to His sweet presence bring.
ROBERT CLARK 73
THE glories of an ancient throne,
A sceptre wide stretched o'er the sea ;
And mighty men, who of their own
Gave what was best to serving thee.
And years to see vast cities rise
In lands which to thy youthful view
Naught offered but the woods and skies
These have been thine vouchsafed to few.
And thine is now the great release
From "lonely splendour" o'er the State;
That messenger whose word is Peace
Hath entered at thy palace gate.
And henceforth aught that Fate may send
Unto our land to thee is naught
Or if we lessen or extend,
Or peace is made or battle fought.
74 THE FINAL DAY
And, now that's come the final day