POETRY.
THE GRAFIN VON ROSENAU.
THERE is a lady crown'd so high,
She hath equal none beneath the sky ; When in the world there is war's wild stir, Millions of hearts beat strong for her.
No diadem bediamonded On haughty autocrat's heavy bead
Rivals the circlet on her brow,—
She is the Griffin von Rosenau.
Heiress she, from her queenly hour, Of a loyal love that is greater than power— Of a knightly worship, known of old When a lady grasps the sceptre of gold— Of an ancient, glorious name, so great That to change it were to anger Fate ; Loftiest throne in the world, I trow, That of Griffin of Rosenau. Heiress of high Elizabeth, Her people ask, with eager breath, Wherefore fly from the fair home scene, While a pliant Premier disposes his Queen, And with ancient history dares to play tricks, Ruling us all with his Imperatrix? Thus all men ask, who loyalty vow To the Grafin von Rosenau.
Will it be well, when another shall reign Over England's empire, land and main, For the future Lord of the Realm to say, "Throw this despot name away !
An Emperor is a trivial thing ;
English and Indians, I am your King"? Better to check the madness now,—
Think of it, Griffin von Rosenau. C.
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