"But, ah, if hatred, petty as malign,
Still in thy bosom find a chosen shrine;
If rage, surviving my expiring breath,
The deeply wrong'd in life pursue in death;
If not my many suff'rings can ensure
The last sad rites of royal sepulture;

If foulest deeds of various kind must blend,
"Hate dog my life, and insult mock my end;"
If, sever'd from the honours of my race,
And, ev'n in death, denied my proper place,
Unmanly vengeance can exulting bloom,
And thrive triumphant, planted on my tomb;
Pause, and reflect: thy years are more than mine;
Thou too, ere long, must life's vain pomp resign.
Though Sy's laurent may a place award,
In realms of bliss, as suits the courtly bard.*
No title there exemption claims from sin,
Nor royal passport lets the bearer in.

Think, when at that last great account we meet,
Will glutted hate and vengeance then be sweet?
Farewell! By deeds of peace thy soul be shriv'n,
Nor tempt the vengeance of offended heav'n !"

To these lines, I would add the following, which were afterwards set to music:

"To save me from death is in vain,

I yield to high Heaven's decree,
Though I suffer in anguish and pain,

Oh! weep not, Oh! weep not for me.
Ere long will my sorrows be o'er,
I forgive all my obdurate foes,
Their fell persecution no more,
- Can rob me of peace and repose.

"Bereft thus of all life held dear,

The world for a victim like me,
Has no charm for my longer stay here,
'Tis a blank, and I wish to be free!

*See Southey's Vision of Judgment.

Farewell, then! my lingering soul
Is tired of her earthly abode...
I submit to Almighty controul,

I'm resigned to the will of my God!
"She died!-yet the arrows of hate,

And calumny's poisonous breath,
Would stifle the tears for her fate,

And stab her fame even in death!
Wrong'd Princess! in ages to come,

Your sufferings remembered shall be,
When oblivion shall cover their tomb,

There are hearts that will sorrow for thee."

Thus were the feelings of the late Queen's friends excited, and thus were they wont to give vent to their loyal and affectionate emotions; yet, strange to relate! her enemies constantly and stoutly asserted that her friends were only to be found amongst the lowest and most despicable class of the people! Every event of her life, that in any way called forth an expression of the public sentiment, as well as the last sad testimony of regard, at her funeral, gave the lie to this contemptible slander. On this last occasion, of which I have given such ample details, there appeared nearly two hundred well dressed gentlemen on horseback, amongst whom were to be found some members of Parliament, and men of title and distinction in the country, cheerfully bearing the greatest fatigue, wet, and inconvenience, for no other purpose, and with no other view, than to manifest the depth and sincerity of their regard. One of these worthy gentlemen,*

* Mr. CHARLES COR BOULD, well known as an engraver of no mean character; and better still, as the friend of the oppressed, and the determined foe of the oppressor.

whose name I have had frequent occasion to mention with esteem and respect in the course of this work, assured me, that he was, on the day of the Queen's funeral, no fewer than seventeen successive hours on horseback. I saw him at Stratford, heading this honourable cavalcade, covered with mud, and drenched with rain. And what could prompt men thus to sacrifice themselves—their time-their money-their domestic comforts, and ease, but the purest affection and most disinterested concern for the memory of their beloved Queen? Never had patriotism a prouder triumph-never was loyalty adorned with more honourable laurels,— never did Britons appear to greater advantage than on this memorable occasion; and never, on the other hand, did the bottomless pit vomit forth its filth with greater vehemence or more unrestrained fury. But the object of all this affection and all this hatred is now far removed from the caresses of the one and the malignant attacks of the other. Peace to thy beloved spirit, most injured of women! Thou shalt never know sorrow or sighing more!

"Thou hast found the sole refuge to mis'ry remaining,
In closing thy anguish'd and troubled career;
Thou hast quitted a scene of existence, retaining
For thy wounded breast nothing grateful or dear;
And where thou hast but found, in adversity's mart,
The means of expiring, all

Broken in heart!

"Go, soar to the regions of bliss, in assurance
That there thy lorn spirit acceptance will find,
By thy sorrow's magnanimous patient endurance,
From each earthly failing and error refin❜d:

* Yes, go where nor malice, nor perj'ry, nor art, Any more can assail the

poor

Broken in heart,

"Go there, where the wicked can trouble no longer,
Where the weary at length find a harbour of rest,
Where the voice of oppression no more is the stronger,
Nor tyranny tortures the innocent breast-

Those regions what earth has denied shall impart,
And afford thee a balm for the

Broken in heart."

CHAPTER IV.

WHILST all England was thus bewailing the loss of their beloved Queen, the reader, who is not as yet acquainted with the details of this eventful history, will naturally inquire into the conduct of the King during these proceedings.

It has already been stated, that his Majesty was, at the time here spoken of, enjoying the luxuries and pleasures of his court in Ireland, where he was received with the most extravagant and unmixed adulation-adulation, even to sickening. A crape rosette on his Majesty's arm was the only symbol of royal grief on the death of the Queen. Although the Court, at home, went into the usual mourning, "it was not expected" that the Court in Ireland should pay that tribute of respect to departed royalty. On the contrary, all was revelling and rejoicing at the King's "most gracious visit."

"This visit of the King to Ireland," said a contemporary writer, "was an event which, from

would not, in that

George IV. was the

whatever cause it originated, country, be soon forgotten. first British monarch who ever set foot on the island but in arms-the first, with the exception of James II., who did not land to make war upon the Irish nation, and whose march was not commemorated (here James is no exception) by famine and devastation. The entrance, accordingly, of King George into his Irish capital, exhibited, on one side, all the gloss of a first gift, and on the other, all the grace of infant gratitude. It well characterized the habitual policy of the English government towards the people of Ireland, that they were in extacies with the reigning Sovereign, because he did not go to burn and destroy them. Let us,' continues this sensible writer, "now dismiss that part of the subject with a supposition to which our Christian charity prompts us, that Ireland was so sunk in gloom-so fraught with misery-so broken in heart-as to feel that the single gleam of sunshine within her reach, was a sacrifice far too precious to be afforded to the griefs of England, or to the claims of general humanity. The Irish take pride in the reception which they have given to their Sovereign; and loyalty, it is certain, may in some instances be at once founded in reason, and carried to enthusiasm, with great honour to the breasts which indulge it. This, we trust, will hereafter be fixed in the remembrance of the people