# A Monody

ON THE LAMENTED DEATH OF HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY,

QUEEN CAROLINE.

BY W. F. SULLIVAN, A. M.

Quis talia fando,
Tempelet a Lachrymis?

VIRGIL.

WHAT means this inward, universal moan,
The deep-fetch'd sigh,—the heartfelt, speechless groan,—
The sadden'd eye,—the countenance so wan,—
Is it, that CAROLINE our QUEEN is gone?
Why, on the morn, the sky so dark appears,
And Nature's self is seen suffus'd in tears.*—
Is it that Nature's works throughout deplore
Th' untimely fate of HER—who's now no more?—
Too true it is,—the elements impart
Their sympathetic feeling to our heart;
For that sad morn, the Heav'ns, in mourning dress'd,
Shed unremitting tears, as if oppress'd
With weight of sorrow for the sudden end
Of BRITAIN'S PATRONESS, of BRITAIN'S FRIEND.
Peace to thy manes! thou most injur'd QUEEN!
Great have thy sufferings, great thy courage, been!

Possess'd of fortitude, with mind serene,
Though many an arduous, many a trying scene,
Her firmness ne'er forsook her to the last,—
The surest proof of virtuous conduct past;
But sternest hatred, carried to such length,
Proved in the end too much for female strength,
Her spirit unsubdued, her tender frame
Sunk beneath injuries too gross to name.
Th' almighty fiat of a pitying God
On great and small inflicts the chast'ning rod,—
On this occasion speaks a language plain,
"She was too worthy on this earth to reign,"
But far exalted 'bove the world's renown,
Wrong'd of her mortal, gains a heavenly crown.

Happy exchange! no more to earth assign'd,
Angels receive her pure, celestial mind;
Freed from its mortal tenement, her soul
Wings its bright course to its immortal goal!
Releas'd from persecution and from foes,
Her parting spirit with forgiveness flows!
With pity now superior she looks down
On the vain pageant of a mortal crown,
Views with contempt the mockeries of state,
The gorgeous trappings of the groveling great,
Feels the home truth, no more misunderstood,
That "to be happy, needs but to be good."

Then, Britons! dry your tears;—'twere cruel, sure,
To wish her life prolong'd, more ills t' endure,
To view the petty malice of her foes,
With unrelenting perseverance, close
Each door to reconcilement, and pursue,
E'en to the grave:—a hapless female too!
Rather rejoice those persecutions cease,
That MARTYR'D ROYALTY now SLEEPS IN PEACE,
That Providence in mercy and in love,
Snatch'd her from earth to heav'n,—to reign above;
Where, thron'd with saints, in blissful fixed abode,
She glorifies her Maker and her GOD.

* It is worthy of remark, that the day following the night of her Majesty's decease was so gloomy, cheerless, and yet, as to add considerably to the general despondency.

August 8th, 1821.