%images;]> lchtml-003302 Albert. ...: a machine readable transcription. Lewis Carroll Scrapbook, Library of Congress Selected and converted. American Memory, Library of Congress.

Washington, DC, 2003.

Preceding element provides place and date of transcription only.

For more information about this text and this American Memory collection, refer to accompanying matter.

 Rare Book & Special Collections Division, Library of Congress. Public Domain

The National Digital Library Program at the Library of Congress makes digitized historical materials available for education and scholarship.

This transcription is intended to have an accuracy rate of 99.95 percent or greater and is not intended to reproduce the appearance of the original work. The accompanying images provide a facsimile of this work and represent the appearance of the original.

 2004/05/18
0001

Albert.

DECEMBER FOURTEENTH, 1861.

How should the Princes die? With red spur deep in maddening charger's flank, Leading the rush that cleaves the foeman's rank, And shouting some time-famous battle-cry?

Ending a pleasure day, Joy's painted goblet fully drained, and out, While wearied vassals coldly stand about, And con new homage which they long to pay?

So have the Princes died. Nobler and happier far the fate that falls On Him who 'mid yon aged Castle walls, Hears, as he goes, the plash of Thames's tide.

Gallant, high-natured, brave, O, had his lot been cast in warrior days, No nobler knight had won the minstrel's praise, Than he, for whom the half-reared banners wave.

Or, graced with gentler powers, The song, the pencil, and the lyre his own, Deigned he to live fair pleasure's thrall alone, None had more lightly sped the laughing hours.

Better and nobler fate His, whom we claimed but yesterday, His, ours no more, his, round whose sacred clay, The death-mute pages and the heralds wait.

It was too soon to die. Yet, might we count his years by triumphs won, By wise, and bold, and Christian duties done, It were no brief eventless history.

This was his princely thought: With all his varied wisdom to repay Our trust and love, which on that Bridal Day The Daughter of the Isles for dowry brought.

For that he loved our Queen, And, for her sake, the people of her love, Few and far distant names shall rank above His own, where England's cherished names are seen.

Could there be closer tie Twixt us, who, sorrowing, own a nation's debt And Her, our own dear Lady, who as yet Must meet her sudden woe with tearless eye:

When with a kind relief Those eyes rain tears, O might this thought employ! Him whom she loved we loved. We shared her joy, And will not be denied to share her grief.