Page:The Queens of England.djvu/612

548 THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. see, moves with majestic mien, along the avenue of waters, flanked by double lines of mammoth battleships and enginery of war, each booming its dirge far out at sea. The splendor of the setting sun touches the rub)' pall and jeweled crown into kindred life and light. "And the dead, Steer'd by the dumb, went upward with the Hood." More than fifty monarchs, crown princes and representatives of royalty follow the dead Queen through crowded London, a significance attaching to their relationship. As the navy honor their Queen on the sea, the army is her escort by land ; and band answers to band in strains of music that Beethoven and Chopin left to the world. At Windsor the booming of minute gun from the castle solemnly tolls off the eighty-one years of the departed life. The restive horses are detached from ^the ordnance, and the sailors reverently drag the carriage up the old historic hill to the entrance of St. George's Chapel. Kings and Queens ; Bishops and Archbishops, statesmen and peers follow the royal remains to the altar. The Bishop of Winchester and Dean of Windsor read the impressive burial service. After the last amen, the herald king-at-arms, pro- claims King Edward, who stands by his mother's coffin at the foot of the altar steps: "Edward VII., King of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and Sovereign of the most noble Order of the Garter. God save the King!" Again the royal casket rests on its way to the tomb. This time in Albert Memorial Chapel. On February 4, followed by her royal descendants, she is laid where her heart has longed to rest, in the tomb of her husband at Frogmore. As Queen, wife, mother, friend, she ruled by the law of love. Therefore England's grief is real. The King's grief is real. The hearts of the whole world pulsate as one in unison with English hearts that mourn their Queen ; and in truest sympathy with children and children's children who, gathered at her bedside, mourn their mother. Kings, Emperors, Princes, pay homage to her mother-love in the presence of Death. The peasantry of the realm, the tenantry of her home, mourn a personal friend. The trouble in the voice of her faithful Scotch gillie proves this when he said : "O mon, she is just a dear old woman dying ; all the majesty is gone out of her!" Yes, the majestic spirit