ON THE DEATH OF MRS. NICHOLL CARNE. (a)

Down the long vista of historic years
I look, and through the dusky haze descry
Funereal pomp, and Royal pageantry,
Gracing the tombs of queens, and kings, and peers.

I see on marble monuments deep hewn
The name and fame of mighty and of great,
Who lie in granite effigy and state,
Waiting the summons to the last Tribune.

But 'mongst the hero-host that shrouded sleep
'Neath purple banner and engraven stone,
Death hath not numbered one among his own
More regal-souled than she for whom we weep.

Though a right Royal lineage she could claim,
Proudly descendant from a Cambrian King;
She was content to let her virtues bring
Something more noble than a Royal name.

Her's was no sceptered life in queenly state:
Yet queen she was, in all that makes a Queen;
No deeds heroic marked her life serene:
Yet heroine she in all that makes us great.

Through all the phases of a blameless life
She lingered round the threshold of the poor:
Where brighter scenes less noble minds allure,
Her's was the joy to move 'midst martyr-strife.

To watch where hearts, by poverty o'ercome,
Lay weak and wailing; and to point above,
With words of hope, of comfort, and of love,
Till brighter, happier, grew each cottage home.

And wine and oil fell plenteous from her hand,
To cheer the wounded on life's weary way:
While, for the human wrecks that round her lay,
Her beacon-light beamed o'er the darkling strand.

Her's was a life of Love; then, of deep griefs,
We'll rear a monument unto her name,
More leal and lasting than the chiselled fame
Of mighty monarchs or heroic chiefs.

And see! the virtues of the parent stem
Break forth in blossom o'er the branching tree:
Long may such fair, such bright fruition be,
Of those bereaved their proudest diadem.

With sheltering arms—with hearts for ever green,
By love united, may they still unite;
So shall they gladden still the sainted sight
Of one who is not, but who once has been.

(a) Mrs. Carne, relict of the late Rev. R. Nicholl Carne, of Dimlands Castle, and mother of R. C. N. Carne, Esq., Nash Manor, and of J. W. N. Carne, Esq., Dimlands and St. Donat's Castles, died November 28th, 1866, at Dimlands, in the 94th year of her age. Deceased could claim a Royal Welsh lineage, being the 34th in unbroken descent from Ynyr, King of Gwent and Dyfed. Her long life was distinguished by unostentatious acts of charity and good works.

ELEGIAC STANZAS

ON THE DEATH OF MRS. PASCOE ST. LEGER GRENFELL, MAESTEG HOUSE, SWANSEA. DIED JANUARY 8TH, 1868.

This world heroic souls can little spare
That battle bravely with life's every ill:
When days are dark that saintly smiles can wear,
And all around with heavenly glory fill.

This world can little spare the Christian heart
That holds with tearful faith the hand of God
With never-yielding grasp; and takes full part
In works divine on earth's degenerate sod.

This world can little spare the gentle voice
That woos the sinful from the dreamy road
Of human frailties, making hearts rejoice,
Relieving souls of many a bitter load.

This world can little spare the bounteous hand
That Plenty plants where Want oft grew before;
Raising the latchet as with angel-wand,
To cheer the darksome cottage of the poor.

Virtues like these the world can little spare
That fleck life's road like snowdrops in the Spring,
Making it beautiful; and, virtue rare!
Silent and heedless of the bliss they bring.

But if the world should weep, how must they mourn
For whom her goodness bloomed a thousand-fold
More sweet in tender love? E'en as the dawn
Crowns all it looks on with a fringe of gold.

So did affection gird in rosy might
The home which by her presence was adorned,
Where came an aching void: for lo! their light
Was quencht by death and in the tomb in-urned.

Not quencht. Ah, no! For Heaven's eternal gates
Flew open, and in robes which angels wear
Her sainted spirit entered; and it waits
For those that were beloved to join it there.