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THE CORONATION: 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 BY HENRY FLOWER. 
 
 "A self-taught genie — an Attorney's Clerk." ^BybON. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 G, BERGER, HOLYWELL STREET, STRAND; 
 
 AND ALL BOOKSELLERS. 
 
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^2. 1 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 My Mother ! long by that endearing name 
 May I with love and duty turn to thee, 
 And find thee, with all changes, still the same 
 As through my being thou hast been to me : 
 And thou wilt love this Tribute, though it be 
 Scorn'd by all others.— I would not resign 
 The pleasure which thy son hath yet to see 
 Beam from those eyes upon his infant line. 
 Though fame and fortune were the pilgrims of 
 shrine ! 
 
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THE CORONATION. 
 
 Say not the hours are for ever flown 
 Which Dian fondly foster'd as her own ; 
 Or that bright era of th' aspiring mind 
 Its earthly garb for ever hath resign'd^ 
 When good Queen Bess her genius did denote, 
 By smiling on what humble Shakspeare wrote ; 
 When joy and wonder found in turns a place 
 To win the Queen, by Spenser's flowing grace ! 
 Oh ! well may we those master works admire, 
 That fill our bosoms with celestial fire ; 
 Whose varied lines, with strongest feeling wrought, 
 Protect the sense, and breathe the sculptur'd thought; 
 With pity rend the sympathising soul. 
 Or bear it upward to an azure goal ! 
 
^ THE CORONATION. 
 
 Bat they no more th' attendiiig muse engage, 
 
 Althoagh vheir souls ir^spire the present age ; 
 
 For England's sons reply unto her bards, 
 
 And British poets have their just rewards;— 
 
 Then shade to him who would the theme instil, 
 
 Such never more can wield the slavish quill! 
 
 Our country yet, with honest zeal, may boast 
 
 Hearts stout and tru^ to guard her favour'd coast ; 
 
 Where Wealth and Commerce with their trains abound, 
 
 And Plenty rises from the teeming ground! 
 
 Where Freedom fosters. Art improves the soil, 
 
 And golden fruits repay the labourer's toil ! 
 
 Then why should droop the heaven-engrafted mind. 
 
 Or sicken in this atmosphere refinM? 
 
 Is it because that Admiration throws 
 
 Her jewels in the path where Folly goes 1 
 
 Or are we realli/ fallen, and unfit 
 
 To exercise our Judgment or our Wit? 
 
 Shame on the thought! the laurel and the bay, 
 
 Shall bud and blossom fresh beneath Victoria's sway \ 
 
/riift^ qCRONATlOH. 7 
 
 Eie:ht years have paps'd intoT etoi shatf'fe, 
 Since George the Fourth' 3^6t of lijiiure paid ; 
 Britannia tax'd her grief, when, lo ! the spiing 
 O'erflowed with joy to greet her Sailor-king ! 
 Dear blessings from the nntion's heart were rent, 
 And grateful tributes with the wishes sent ; 
 The Tell-like patriot calm'd his rising storm, 
 And slept contented with the word Reform ; 
 E'en jealous Faction clos'd her fiery feud. 
 And hail'd him as the harbinger of good ! — 
 That time hath pass'd — may undisturb'd repose 
 Attend the man who shar'd his country's woes. 
 Again doth Britain, on this glorious day. 
 New blessings proffer, and fresh tributes pay ; 
 While every face is mantled in a smile, 
 To greet the Sovereign-Lady of our isle ! 
 Sweet-scented odour rides the mellow breeze, 
 And Nature's music fills the teeming trees ; 
 Coruscant shrubs, with honey-breeding flowers, 
 Upon her track exhaust successive showers 
 
g ' THE coronatjon: 
 
 Of fragrant desw ; a^id. drop their, varied bloom, 
 To dye her sand<^l^ with; the rich perfume ; — 
 E'en Sol's brrght cresset yields another ray. 
 Upon Victoria's Coronation-day ! 
 
 Three happy realms, with heartfelt joy unite, 
 To bend in homage to a virgin's right; 
 The chiefs convened, their firm allegiance own, 
 To guard her Church, and to defend her Throne! 
 Pure love, not duty, doth each breast expand. 
 To fly or tarry at her sweet command — 
 Whose fine arch'd forehead, love-inspiring eye, 
 And roseate cheeks that with the lily vie ; 
 Carnation lips, that guard the orient pearls, 
 And sunny hair unknown to wanton curls- 
 Might well excite a passion in each breast. 
 To love, adore, or do her dear behest. 
 What are the diamonds that so richly shine, 
 Or purple stones, pluck'd from an Indian mine. 
 To deck the temples of this daughter fair. 
 Like to the modest gem that sparkles ther6? 
 
THE CORONATION. 9 
 
 How shew those turquois, when compar'd unto 
 
 Her eyes? — ^twin lustres of an azure hue ! 
 
 Or how this pomp, magnificence of state, 
 
 To virtue, which alone is ever great ? 
 
 Then long as Peace shall, with an open hand, 
 
 Her bounties scatter through the thriving land, 
 
 The sun-bright mountain, forest, and the plain, 
 
 That proudly bears the golden-tufted grain, 
 
 Shall flourish in Victoria's gentle sway, 
 
 And bless, for ever bless, her Coronation-day ! 
 
 As some lone bark the heavy tempest braves. 
 Bows to the winds, and curtsies to the waves ; 
 While threat'ning thunder cleaves the vault on high. 
 And lightning gasps within the fatal sky — 
 Shuts her white wings, to float upon the crest 
 That caps the billows budding from her breast, 
 Sports with each mountain that would overwhelm. 
 And force the vessel to forsake her helm. 
 But danger o'er, again she doth inhale 
 With double pleasure every gentle gale — 
 
IQ THE CORONATION. 
 
 Borne on her snowy pinions far away, 
 Her bosom heaves unto the dewy spray. 
 
 So shall our ship the Drama nobly guide 
 Her golden freight athwart the rippling tide ; 
 No more she labours 'neath deceitful gales. 
 Whose latent force destroy'd her goodly sails; 
 Her danger's done, a calm and open sea 
 Extends afar upon the vessel's lee- 
 All hearts the omen hail ! Macready strives- 
 The Queen approves-and Avon's Bard revives ; 
 Through finest ether floats the melting song. 
 And cavern'd rocks the honied strains prolong ;- 
 Each untaught muse with honest zeal shall rise, 
 And spread her pinions to the starry skies,— 
 Long flutter o'er unhappy Burns's cot. 
 And Dryburgh reverence for the bones of Scott! 
 Through British isles remit the lofty strain. 
 And bear its cadence o'er the dimpled main. 
 Dear Knowles and Talfourd shall their pens engage, 
 Till Wit and Worth find credit on the stage; 
 
THl^ CORONATION. 11 
 
 Till Folly's thousand faults are banish'd hence, 
 For noble scenes that feed a better sense ; 
 (Not but 1 own, the body, so inclin'd. 
 Demands as much tuition as the mind-^) 
 Till bright-eyed Genius shall in judgment sit, 
 And Blasphemy no more be took for Wit ; 
 Till yet again, the genuine British play 
 Shall find a patron saint in young Victoria ! 
 
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 How merry ring the pretty village bells, 
 Borne by the breeze along the distant dells. 
 Where blooming orchards deck the fertile fields. 
 And Ceres all her yellow harvest yields ! 
 Where through the thicket, shading yonder stream. 
 Ye lightly catch the timid waters' gleam ! 
 And birds, unconscious of th' eventful day, 
 Their w^ild notes warble to a Nation's lay ! 
 Here motley groups, with laughing peals, attest 
 That pleasure reigns within each lowly breast : 
 While some to cricket, or the quoit resort, 
 And others join the blushing maidens' sport! 
 
12 THE CORONATION. 
 
 The western sun, in burnish'd dress serene, 
 Bestows his blessing on the fairy-scene, 
 With love embalms each long-receding ray. 
 And weeps to close a nation's hohday ! 
 Who dare's assert that this is not a sight 
 To fill a traveller's bosom with delight ! 
 To glad the heart within him, if there be 
 One spark of Love, one ray of Liberty ! 
 Ask yonder man, whose tottering step appears 
 To serve the owner of some eighty years, 
 Why these rude shouts from lusty lungs arise 
 In lengthen'd peals unto the sunny skies ? 
 He'll raise his palsied arm, and feebly say, 
 " This is Victoria's Coronation-day !" 
 
 Ye who revile the peasant's honest shout. 
 But this remember— that his love's devout! 
 Turn to his home, and view the scanty fare 
 His frugal partner doth with joy prepare— 
 His callow brood, with paltry pittance blest. 
 Are each in turn unto his bosom press'd. 
 
THE CORONATION. 13 
 
 What ! though no plenteous board doth joy impart, 
 Their smiles give greater welcome to his heart ! 
 Smiles, that are lit by Love's unchanging ray — 
 That raise the tear his rough hand wipes away ! 
 Unknown to him the rich man's heavy dower, 
 Who sighs away a life within an hour ; — 
 Though hard he toils, contented is his lot ; 
 His life ungilded, but without a blot ! 
 Ready to serve, and willing to obey, 
 His country and his Queen — Victoria ! 
 
 The sails are set, the stately vessels sweep 
 In semicircle o'er the glassy deep ; 
 Long pennons streaming from the masts on high, 
 Seem blood-veins form'd within the azure sky ! 
 While o'er each stern the Union Jack unfurl'd, 
 Shows that Britannia girths the rolling world ! 
 Th' horizon gain'd, the convoy gaily steep 
 Their gilded bows within the jewell'd deep ; 
 Descending still, the latest pennon drinks 
 A crystal draught, and with the potion sinks ! — 
 
1^ THE CORONATION. 
 
 Lives there the prophet who can truly tell 
 If this shall be Earl Durham's last farewell? 
 For Ocean can a thousand souls immerge, 
 Yet bear, unharm'd, a feather oer the surge ! 
 Full many a maid in secret doth deplore 
 Her lover, exil'd from his native shore— 
 Her constant wish, her hope, that he'll retrace 
 The Alpine furrows form'd on Ocean's face ; 
 Exulting now, she warmly clasps his hand, 
 As, from the boat, he leaps upon the strand ! 
 Delusive thought ! too long her breast shall tell, 
 The hour that saw his silent, sad farewell ! 
 But he is gone, the flashing blade to wield, 
 Where Fame awaits him in the battle-field : — 
 Where hosts, enleagued against Oppression, pour 
 Their rebel force upon Saint Lawrence' shore : 
 And, like the river to the ocean vast, 
 Onward they rush, as fiercely and as fast ;— 
 But hark ! the cannon's pestilential breath 
 Now hurries thousands to untimely death 
 
THE CORONATION. J 5 
 
 Hark ! on the winged wind, away ! away ! 
 Ride shouts of " England and Victoria !" 
 
 Oh, heavenly Peace ! extend thy winged soul 
 From Borneo's isle unto each frozen pole ! 
 Where Nature mantles in perpetual snow, 
 Or where Sirocco's fever'd gale doth blow ; 
 Where dance the ruby children of the sun, 
 Or those his beam doth never fall upon ! 
 Let man's ambition be to scorn the shore 
 Which war shall purple with a nation's gore; 
 In thy lov'd cause teach him to lead the van, 
 And bear the olive with his brother man ; 
 That he shall feel, wherever he may roam. 
 The world's his country, and each clime his home! 
 Propitious Peace ! grant we may never view 
 Again the carnage of a Waterloo ! 
 Or see the hell-hounds of inglorious war 
 To lap thick blood, like that of Trafalgar ! 
 Had Nelson only fallen with the brave, 
 Who liv'd — who conquered — died, upon the wave — 
 
1^ THE CORONATION. 
 
 What victory for the murder could atone, 
 When Britain lost, her best and bravest son ? 
 
 Farewell, sweet Syren! thou whose early ray 
 Hath smiled upon my rough, but honest lay ; 
 Still o'er my course let fall thy mellow beam, 
 And tint with joy the waters of that stream 
 Whose ocean's Death ! Through each intricate maze, 
 That Passion in its hour of Life displays, 
 Lead thou the way ! Upon the verdant Wye, 
 Bid Freedom take my last poetic sigh — 
 Let my pent soul thy seraph voice inhale 
 Through lemon scent that rides the passing gale ! 
 While, as the life runs ebbing from this breast, 
 Bear to my Queen a subject's warm request— 
 Long may' St Thou live, Britannia's bark to steer 
 From leeward shores— a maiden Timoneer ! 
 
 G. Berger, Printer, Holywell Streel, Strand