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.Assuredly our fair Princess will shed many tears out of the "dovelike eyes," or the heart will be little worth.Is she to know no parting, no care, no anxious longing, no tender watches by the sick, to deplore no friends and kindred, and feel no grief? Heaven forbid! When a bard or wildered minstrel writes so, best accept his own confession, that he is losing his head.On the day of her entrance into London who looked more bright and happy than the Princess? On the day of the marriage, the fair face wore its marks of care already, and looked out quite grave, and frightened almost, under the wreaths and lace and orange-flowers.Would you have had her feel no tremor? Amaiden on the bridegroom's threshold, a Princess led up to the steps of a throne? I think her pallor and doubt became her as well as her smiles.That, I can tell you, was OUR vote who sat in Xcompartment, let us say, in the nave of St.George's Chapel at Windsor, and saw a part of one of the brightest ceremonies ever performed there.
My dear cousin Mary, you have an account of the dresses; and Ipromise you there were princesses besides the bride whom it did the eyes good to behold.Around the bride sailed a bevy of young creatures so fair, white, and graceful that I thought of those fairy-tale beauties who are sometimes princesses, and sometimes white swans.The Royal Princesses and the Royal Knights of the Garter swept by in prodigious robes and trains of purple velvet, thirty shillings a yard, my dear, not of course including the lining, which, I have no doubt, was of the richest satin, or that costly "miniver" which we used to read about in poor Jerrold's writings.The young princes were habited in kilts; and by the side of the Princess Royal trotted such a little wee solemn Highlander!
He is the young heir and chief of the famous clan of Brandenburg.
His eyrie is amongst the Eagles, and I pray no harm may befall the dear little chieftain.
The heralds in their tabards were marvellous to behold, and a nod from Rouge Croix gave me the keenest gratification.I tried to catch Garter's eye, but either I couldn't or he wouldn't.In his robes, he is like one of the Three Kings in old missal illuminations.
Goldstick in waiting is even more splendid.With his gold rod and robes and trappings of many colors, he looks like a royal enchanter, and as if he had raised up all this scene of glamour by a wave of his glittering wand.The silver trumpeters wear such quaint caps, as those I have humbly tried to depict on the playful heads of children.Behind the trumpeters came a drum-bearer, on whose back a gold-laced drummer drubbed his march.
When the silver clarions had blown, and under a clear chorus of white-robed children chanting round the organ, the noble procession passed into the chapel, and was hidden from our sight for a while, there was silence, or from the inner chapel ever so faint a hum.
Then hymns arose, and in the lull we knew that prayers were being said, and the sacred rite performed which joined Albert Edward to Alexandra his wife.I am sure hearty prayers were offered outside the gate as well as within for that princely young pair, and for their Mother and Queen.The peace, the freedom, the happiness, the order which her rule guarantees, are part of my birthright as an Englishman, and I bless God for my share.Where else shall I find such liberty of action, thought, speech, or laws which protect me so well? Her part of her compact with her people, what sovereign ever better performed? If ours sits apart from the festivities of the day, it is because she suffers from a grief so recent that the loyal heart cannot master it as yet, and remains treu und fest to a beloved memory.A part of the music which celebrates the day's service was composed by the husband who is gone to the place where the just and pure of life meet the reward promised by the Father of all of us to good and faithful servants who have well done here below.As this one gives in his account, surely we may remember how the Prince was the friend of all peaceful arts and learning; how he was true and fast always to duty, home, honor; how, through a life of complicated trials, he was sagacious, righteous, active and self-denying.And as we trace in the young faces of his many children the father's features and likeness, what Englishman will not pray that, they may have inherited also some of the great qualities which won for the Prince Consort the love and respect of our country?
The papers tell us how, on the night of the marriage of the Prince of Wales, all over England and Scotland illuminations were made, the poor and children were feasted, and in village and city thousands of kindly schemes were devised to mark the national happiness and sympathy."The bonfire on Coptpoint at Folkestone was seen in France," the Telegraph says, "more clearly than even the French marine lights could be seen at Folkestone." Long may the fire continue to burn! There are European coasts (and inland places)where the liberty light has been extinguished, or is so low that you can't see to read by it--there are great Atlantic shores where it flickers and smokes very gloomily.Let us be thankful to the honest guardians of ours, and for the kind sky under which it burns bright and steady.
