AN ODE,

ON THE MUCH LAMENTED

Death of Queen Caroline;

Queen of Great Britain, who died, (at Brandenburgh House), on Tuesday August, 7, 1821.

THE fairest of flowers must shed all its blossom,
The sweetest of lilies must bow its pale head;
Let sorrow sincere, possess every bosom,
For CAROLINE of England, is faded and dead.

Our QUEEN, and our PRIDE, lately blooming in beauty,
Now's blighted and cold in the paleness of death,
Oh! weep, Britons weep, for affection a duty
We owe to her memory, her virtue, and worth.

But where's the hard face, on a smile that would venture,
Or suffer his pleasures one tear to beguile?
Where's the dull heart, that would on merriment enter?
Banished be such from our grief stricken Isle.

But hush'd be your mourning, no more must you sorrow,
Will your tears, or your sighs, restore her again?
Philosophy dictates; her aid you must borrow
She bids you from wailing and weeping refrain.

Could philosophy dry the tears of a nation,
That in sorrow's sad cup has drunken so deep?
Reflection and reason, may give consolation,
May urge all their dictates, but still we must weep.

Cease, cease then thy cry, to affection 'tis granted
A sigh may be offered, a tear may be given,
For CAROLINE of England, is not dead but transplanted,
And now wear's a CROWN, in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Printed & Published by B. JOHNSON, Hudson's-court, 482, Strand, London.—Price One Penny.