Page:Artabanzanus (Ferrar, 1896).djvu/38

Thy strength is feared: on ocean proudly swelling,
Thy navies guard thy world-wide glittering strand:
How on thy realms the sun doth ne'er go down;
How millions call thee Empress: thy banner waves
From pole to pole; how rich gems deck thy crown—
How brave thy warriors' hearts, as one who braves
The battle's thunders and the tempest's rage?
These are the flowers it is thy lot to tread;
These are the actors on life's stormy stage;
These are the sons who for thee nobly bled;
And we who bleed not—still the wish is ours—
The fond, deep wish, fairer than crowns of earls—
To strew thy path with all our loveliest flowers,
O mighty Queen!
And deck thy diadem with richer pearls.

'With what great sovereign of the vanished years
Shall we compare thee, happy, happy Queen—
Blest with all blessings, rich in that which cheers
The soul and heart, a matron, dear, serene?—
Not with her, surely, daughter of a king—
A monster-tyrant, mocking at man's pain,
Who scoffed at mercy as an unholy thing.
Bidding his subjects' blood flow down like rain!
Mary! what recks it, when thou wast on the throne,
Two hundred martyrs died by axe and stake?
Thou heard'st no piercing scream, no hapless groan;
The Christian's light did not thy hard heart break;
Thy slaves, the furious Bonner and his crew,
Drunk in their blood-stained revelry—where are they?
And Philip, whom the weeping nations knew?
All swept to infamy away!

'Neither with her, Elizabeth, the brave,
The lion-hearted Queen, of virgin charms,
Who shattered on the island-girdling wave
The might of Spain with England's hosts in arms;
Who, while all kings in solemn awe beholding,
Wondering and trembling at tremendous power,
Played the pretending lover, her white hands folding,
Prepared to strike, smiling in Cupid's bower.
Lost in enchantment, making fools of men,
Laughing at tears: her battlemented tower
A tower of woes indeed; her house a den
Of mocking beings; its grim walls arrayed
With ghastly heads! Dread Queen, who ruled by fear!
These she with Biron of France surveyed,
She hissing, "See how we punish traitors here!"
Laughing at wisdom, her own wild way pursuing
Her smile a Circe's cup, her frown a terror
Of Gorgon-wreathed serpents: her hands imbruing