QUEEN VICTORIA'S JUBILEE

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume IX, Issue 1652, 16 June 1887, Page 2

QUEEN VICTORIA'S JUBILEE

Though the event which is the cause of this poem being 'written has yet scarcely come to pass, the author, having adopted a train of thought, found it necessary to touch upon the death of King William IV. and the subsequent events— the breaking of the news to the future Queen, her accession, and coronation ; and hopes that the reader will bear in mind that a strong tie still binds loyal hearts to that time, inasmuch as the fair young Queen who then seated herself on the throne of England, undismayed by rumors of dissension, still wields its mighty sceptre as the most popular monarch of the age.

Night's darkness hangs in solemn state o'er England's sleeping world. And nature's ever-soothing calm in beauty is unfurled. The moon from her fair throne so sadly seems to smile, The stately stars do blink and nature's time beguile ; And from their lofty perch, so glorious and and so bright, They seem to chide the zephyr that wanders through the night. And all in solemn grandeur a' vigil [seem to keep, For the stars they twinkle bright again, and the moon she courts not sleep. Fair night, in your cold grandeur, what sorrow do you bring : For we behold in a stately room the death-bed of a King I The lights are bidden softly burn, and muffled is the tread ; And vainly may the watchers) mourn — he that was once is dead ! And now we see two noblemen hie with what speed they may, For yonder streak in the eastern sky fortells the break of day ; Once and again they peal aloud at Kensington's firm gate, And, after admittance given, impatiently they wait ! And soon there comes a lady fair, with gentle, stately tread ; So innocent she meets their gaze : she knows not who is dead ! In homage on their knees they fall, and bend in loyal mien ; Then, as she hears the monarch's death, she knows she is a Queen ! She meets in her first council the noblest of the land ; In solemn state their homage pay, then stoop and kiss her hand. But one short year has passed away, and she stems the tide of renown, j In state her insignia she receives — the sceptre and the crown ! The tide of time flows gaily on, and dissentient fears are rife ; But love steps in with uoyielding|strength, and she becomes a wife ! Years pass on, and her children grow in the strength that Nature gave, But three family chairs are empty, three souls pass through the grave. Oh ! firm in purpose, strong in mind, is our true and worthy Queen ; For well has she ruled these fifty years, though trouble she has seen. Our nation's greatness she upholds in true and Queenly style, And her noble fame none dare gainsay, and her name none may defile I Arise ! arise I all loyal hearts that come of British soil, And swell your throats in joyous shouts, and stay the hand of toil ! For this glad time of pleasure, to us but once shall be A season of rejoicing — our good Queen's Jubilee. Now, let us mark this epoch in the annals of our land I And raise the stately monument — the work of skilful hands ; Let us build homes for aged men and women sore in life, That they may rest in quietude from this world's field of strife I And let the banquet now be spread in glittering array, That loyal 1 carts may there unite on the auspicious day ! And fill the wine cup to the brim and drink with loyal mien, As from proud hearts there comes the toast, — " Our Sovereign and Our Queen." Now light the blazing bonfire high, o'er echoing hill and dell ! That, with its weird light, it may aid the joyous news to tell ; And bid the cannon thunder forth, with fierce and mighty glee, That we may rise in chorus strong, and shout " A Jubilee !" Oh, good and noble Queen, we read, but kindness in thy face, We know that from thy lofty throne thou look'st in courteous grace ; We know thy days are numbering on, soon must we part from thee, Oh ! bitter, bitter parting, what sorrow there will be ! What kindly act wilt tbou do, fair Queen, in this most glorious time ? What wilt thou do that a thousand bells may ring a merry chime ? Oh, cast your thoughts among the poor — the friendless erring poor ; Whose hearts maintain no chord of love, as they beg from door to door. And bid our prisons ring with shouts of new-born loyalty, From erring and despairing men, who now shall ransomed be ! Full well we know that in thy heart thou lov'flt not grand array, For the gilded charm of monarchy with time must pass away ; The banks and braes of the bonnie north, a charm they have for thee, That England's greatness ne'er can hold, though glorious it may be. Thy noble worth and lasting love, from us have bought for thee. Through long and pleasant years of paace — love, faith, aud loyalty ! Britannia ! rise in unison, and swell your hearts anew To her whose dearest duty is : to serve her God and you. — Walter Syme.