XXXIII.

Oh noblest maiden, though of low estate, With every proud and generous impulse rife; Born to demonstrate to the meanly great, How vain the pageant of a worthless life! Sprung from thy heart like wild-flowers all that wife Could bring of purity to Kingliest throne, With highest attributes to soothe the strife Of human passion, for the fall atone, And show our angel-part preserved in thee alone!