28 ftratigatc palace. 



" Beautiful martyr ! widowed by the hand 



That reft thee of thy life, ere yet 'twas thine ; 

 Thy grave to find beneath a guilty land, 



Thou hast no need of gilded niche or shrine ! 



Fond recollections round thy memory twine 

 A sacred halo circles thy brief years ; 



'Tis thine, redeemed from sin and death, to shine 

 Eternally above this world of fears : 

 Where Christ himself, thy King, hath wiped away all tears. 



" Farewell, thou mouldering relic of the past ! 



An hour unmeetly was not spent with thee : 

 Events as rapid as the autumn's blast 



Have hurried onward, since 'twas thine to see 



The fairest flower of England pensively 

 Expand and blossom 'neath thy rugged shade ; 



And here thou stand'st, while circling seasons flee, 

 A monumental pile of that sweet maid, 

 Whom men of cruel hands within the charnel laid." 



The Author of the Visions of Solitude. 



