February 10, 1840

They saw thee kneel with lowly mien,
In faith a child, in state a queen;
No circlet girt thy marble brow
While at that altar thou didst bow;
And tears sprung forth from many an eye
In all that gorgeous company.

Around that brow, so high and fair,
The symbol of a kingdom's care,
They bound a royal diadem,
Flashing with many a rarest gem;
And British hearts were proud to own
Thy peaceful sway, thy virgin throne.

Again thou kneelest — on that brow
A snowy veil is trembling now;
And as the solemn words pass by,
Thy woman's heart is throbbing high;
Nor e'er did cottage maid rejoice
In purer love — in freer choice.

Young Queen, as through the shadowy past
For glimpses of thy lot we cast,
And the dim things to come espy
Through the stern present's gathering sky,
Our tears fall from us as we pray
For blessings on thy bridal day!