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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
It stands where northern willows weep,
A temple fair and lone ;
From cypress-branches thrown ;
And what within is richly shrined?
A sculptured woman's form,
As one beyond the storm:
The folded hands, the calm pure face,
The mantle's quiet flow,
Throned on the matron brow;
There stands an eagle, at the feet
Of the fair image wrought; A kindly emblem-nor unmeet
To wake yet deeper thought:
Of dying scent and hue ;-
How sorrowfully true!
She saw their birthright's warrior crown
Of olden glory spoil'd, 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 - it came,
Her land's redeeming hour,
Sent on from tower to tower ! Fast through the realm a spirit moved — 'Twas hers, the lofty and the loved.
Then was her name a note that rung
To rouse bold hearts from sleep, Her memory, as a banner flung
Forth by the Baltic deep; Her grief, a bitter vial pour'd To sanctify th' avenger's sword.
And the crown'd eagle spread again
His pinion to the sun; And the strong land shook off its chain
So 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
Mother and child! whose blending tears
Have sanctified the place,
Was given one last embrace;
A spell to waken solemn thought,
A still, small under-tone,
With many a treasure gone;
For who, that gazes on the stone
Which marks your parting spot, Who, but a mother's love hath known
The one love changing not ? Alas ! and haply learn'd its worth First with the sound of “ Earth to earth ?”
But thou, high-hearted daughter! thou,
O'er whose bright, honour'd head,
Ev'n here were fondly shed,
For oh! though painful be th’ excess,
The might wherewith it swells, In nature's fount no bitterness
Of nature's mingling, dwells; And thou hadst not, by wrong or pride, Poison'd the free and healthful tide.
But didst thou meet the face no more,
Which thy young heart first knew?
With ties thus close and true?
No other voice could pierce the maze
Where, deep within thy breast,
With memory lay at rest ;