The Second Birth of the Princess Royal

Gold ! ruddy, rich, and rare !
With silver from the mine —
The gems of price are glorious there,
And costly vessels shine ;
And storied walls are nobly spread
With fair forms of the living dead !

Bright brow and graceful mien !
The guests of bower and hall —
They come to watch a sacred scene,
The solemn festival —
A proud and stately host they stand,
The kingly blood of English land.

A priest ! a man grown old,
With voice of ancient tone,
And aged arms, that fain must hold
The offspring of a throne ;
That voice shall greet, those hands will bless
The flower of England's loveliness.

A prayer — a vow — the sign —
The mystic waters poured :
And lo ! the child of earthly line
Is daughter of the Lord !
What glories fill — what wonders haunt
The rich breast of that silvery font ! —

Yet from no native streams,
Though beautiful they be —
From no glad river, as it gleams,
A pilgrim to the sea :
They will not lave from English springs
The daughter of a thousand kings.

River of lordly Dan !
Thine was the chosen bed ;
The glory of thy waters ran
Around that infant head ;
'Twas thou ! with life, and breath, and fame,
Proud memories, and a mighty name.

Thou ! that in ancient days
Didst hear the voice of God,
And fleddest ; while thy torrent-ways
The hosts of Israel trod.
Thy gentle waters, pure and mild,
Fell softly on that happy child !

Thou ! that of old didst lave
The Maiden's Awful Birth
Even He that made thy Syrian wave
The glory of the earth ! —
See ! o'er her brow thy fountains glide —
Her own dear Saviour's blessed tide !

Keep, child of England's fame,
The blessing and the vow :
The mighty thought, what waters came
To touch thine infant brow :
Lo ! Jordan rolls beyond the sea,
Bright babe, with memory of thee !

Red gold that brow may bind,
Gems 'mid thy beauty shine,
Around that form rich robes be twined
With silver from the mine :
But fairer fall, and lovelier gleam
The starry dews of Syria's stream !