Hail! virtuous Lady, England’s pride

Hail! virtuous Lady, England’s pride; Abate thy grief, and gently glide Among thy people, who—so free— Have long’d thy widow’d face to see Bedeck’d with smiles, and thou again Enjoying tranquilly thy reign. Come, Lady, and sweet comfort find; Come with thy children ’round thee twin’d, For they shall reap that earthly bliss Sown in thy former happiness. We’ve miss’d thee, seemingly, for years; The while thou’st shed a nation’s tears For thine, for ours, for God’s elect: Come forth, conjointly to erect Our heads, and give Him praise for all. Let Hope’s bright rays again thy soul, And ours, abundantly rejoice!— That all thy subjects, with one voice, May sing “God save our gracious Queen:”— “Long live our dear and noble Queen Victoria;” who at Aberdeen, To-day, amidst her people’s seen Unveiling to her country’s gaze A lov’d one’s statue, ne’er t’erase ’T from memory. With fortitude The ceremony she withstood, And taught the world how much she loved The one whom she had so well proved A husband, and a worthy sire,— Once mortal; now, immortal, higher! From thy deep solitude come forth And tread the land which gave thee birth With footsteps light; thus, cheerily, List to our songs so merrily As thou wert wont in days of yore: Come, be as blithe as heretofore, Among thy people; for we fain Would see thy queenly smiles again.