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CONSOLATORY STANZAS, 

 TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF GLO'STER; 



WRITTEN AND PRESENTED TO H. R. H. ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE 

 DEATH OF THE LATE DUKE, NOVEMBER, 1835. 



Oh, Royal Daughter ! why thus sadly grieve, 

 A sea of tears would not the dead recall ; 



The good, the gentle, death did never leave, — 

 The hest and nohlest are the first to fall ; 



Oh ! weep not, Royal Princess, those are blest. 



Who sleep in peace, — no cares disturb their rest. 



Fain would we gently wipe those tears away. 

 And banish sorrow to the land of gloom ; 



For why be sad, while on this earth we stay. 

 Although we travel to the silent tomb ? 



Like the pale moon that with the clouds has striven, 



"We mav at last tread the clear floor of heaven. 



We have a monarch merciful, who now 



Would fain all mourning from his kingdom chase. 



And gladly smile to see a placid brow. 

 And a bright joy again light up thy face ; 



Oh, lay aside this deep long-cherish'd sorrow, — 



The darkest day brings sunshine on the morrow. 



For what is death but a long quiet rest. 



Unbroken by the heaving storms of life ; 

 The dew that sleeps upon the rose's breast. 



Knows nought of care, and woe, and grief, and strife. 

 So rest the dead, all undisturb'd and still. 

 Like the pale primrose shelter'd by the hill. 



Few lived hke him, alas ! who lives no more. 



But with a nation's blessings on his head : 

 We for his goodness ever will deplore, 



And raise a prayer above his silent bed. 

 Weep not ! but hope, for there are realms above. 

 Where we may meet again with those we love. J. B, 



