Seems it yestreen since we
First hailed thee, beautous bride! Sweet-smiling, by the side Of Him, our king to be.

Cheek of the pink sea-shell;
Eyes of the summer blue, Locks of the brown-gold hue; Voice clear as silver bell.

The myriads crowd the street;
Glad music, nigh and far, Outsoundeth earthly jar; And tenders welcome meet.

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Once more thy form I see,
Amid thy family band Save one, on Scottish strand, And twain—where seraphs be.

Nor fled thy winsome grace;
Nor did thy beauty fade, Though sad bereavement's shade Hath paled thy peerless face.

Still sway with gentle hand;
Still live thy lovesome life Fond mother! faithful wife! First princess of first land.