THE QUEEN OF PRUSSIA'S TOMB. "This tomb is in the garden of Charlottenburgh, near Berlin. It was not without surprise that I came suddenly, among trees, upon a fair white Doric temple. I might, and should have deemed it a mere adornment of the grounds, but the cypress and the willow declare it a habitation of the dead. Upon a sarcophagus of white marble lay a sheet, and the outline of the human form was plainly visible beneath its folds. The person with me reverently turned it back, and displayed the statue of his Queen. It is a portrait-statue recumbent, said to be a perfect resemblance-not as in death, but when she lived to bless and be blessed. Nothing can be more calm and kind than the expression of her features. The hands are folded on the bosom; the limbs are sufficiently crossed to show the repose of life.- -Here the King brings her children annually, to offer garlands at her grave. These hang in withered mournfulness above this living image of their departed mother."- Sherber's Notes and Reflections during a Ramble in Germany. In sweet pride upon that insult keen She smiled; then drooping mute and broken-hearted, Ir stands where northern willows weep, Soft shadows o'er its marble sweep, And what within is richly shrined? A sculptured woman's form, Lovely in perfect rest reclined, As one beyond the storm: Yet not of death, but slumber, lies The folded hands, the calm pure face, Throned on the matron brow; There stands an eagle, at the feet There are pale garlands hung above, She was a mother-in her love Oh! hallow'd long be every leaf, She saw their birthright's warrior crown The standard of their sires borne down, The shield's bright blazon soil'd: She met the tempest meekly brave, Then turn'd, o'erwearied, to the grave. She slumber'd; but it came Her land's redeeming hour, it came, With the glad shout, and signal-flame, Fast through the realm a spirit moved 'Twas hers, the lofty and the loved. Then was her name a note that rung And the crown'd eagle spread again His pinion to the sun; And the strong land shook off its chainSo was the triumph won! But woe for earth, where sorrow's tone Still blends with victory's-She was gone' THE MEMORIAL PILLAR. On the road-side between Penrith and Appleby, stands a small pillar, with this inscription:-"This pillar was erected in the year 1656, by Ann, Countess Dowager of Pembroke, for a memorial of her last parting, in this place, with her good and pious mother, Margaret, Countess Dowager of Cumberland, on the 2d April, 1616." -See Notes to the "Pleasures of Memory.” Hast thou, through Eden's wild-wood vales, pursued Nor with attention's lifted eye, revered That modest stone, by pious Pembroke rear'd, Which still records, beyond the pencil's power, Rogers. MOTHER and child! whose blending tears Have sanctified the place, Where, to the love of many years Was given one last embrace; A spell to waken solemn thought, That calls back days of childhood, fraught And smites, perchance, the hidden source, For who, that gazes on the stone First with the sound of "Earth to earth?" But thou, high-hearted daughter! thou, For oh! though painful be th' excess, And thou hadst not, by wrong or pride, But didst thou meet the face no more, No other voice could pierce the maze No other smile to thee could bring |