Professor Aytoun is more
ornate. After elegantly complimenting the spring, and a description of
her Royal Highness's well-known ancestors the "Berserkers," he bursts
forth--
"The Rose of Denmark comes, the Royal Bride!
O loveliest Rose! our paragon and pride--
Choice of the Prince whom England holds so dear--
What homage shall we pay
To one who has no peer?
What can the bard or wildered minstrel say
More than the peasant who on bended knee
Breathes from his heart an earnest prayer for thee?
Words are not fair, if that they would express
Is fairer still; so lovers in dismay
Stand all abashed before that loveliness
They worship most, but find no words to pray.
Too sweet for incense! (bravo!) Take our loves instead--
Most freely, truly, and devoutly given;
Our prayer for blessings on that gentle head,
For earthly happiness and rest in Heaven!
May never sorrow dim those dove-like eyes,
But peace as pure as reigned in Paradise,
Calm and untainted on creation's eve,
Attend thee still! May holy angels," &c.
This is all very well, my dear country cousins. But will you say "Amen"
to this prayer? I won't.
Pages:
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479