Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/chelchedorchelseOOwebbrich CHELCHED : OR, €hdstn, ^ncunt, ^ebmbnl, mxb ^obern. A POEM WILLIAM WEBBE, AUTHOR OP 'THE POET'S DEATH," "THE CHELSEA PENSIONERS," &c. PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY S. A. MOWELS, 138, SLOANE STREET, S.W. MDCCCLXXIX. LOAN STACK \A/nCH- PREFACE. It is natural that we should feel more interested in the prosperity of the place with which we are most intimately acquainted than with any other. The persons by whom we are surrounded — those who are governed by the same laws, who speak the same language, and whose customs and habits of life are identical with our own — must necessarily interest us more than those living at a distance from us under contrary conditions of existence. The love of country has always been considered a virtue of the first magni- tude, and one of our poets, in some well-known lines, denounces him who is destitute of it. in no measured terms. But this attachment to a particular locality does not exclude a more extended love : it is only the first step towards that love with which we ought to IV PREFACE. regard all God's creatures. The working of this principle has been beautifully expressed by Pope : — *' God loves from whole to parts, but human soul Must rise from individual to the whole ; Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake ; The centre moved a circle straight succeeds, Another still and still another spreads ; Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace ; His country next, and next all hiiman race ; Wide, and more wide, the o'erflo wings of the mind. Takes every creature in of every kind : Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, And heaven beholds its image in his breast." The intense love of country which was displayed by the citizens of the great Eoman empire may have been one of the causes of its wonderful expansion. This principle was exhibited in their history in numberless instances : some, perhaps, legendary, but all showing the powerful influence which it had upon their minds. The lives of the citizens illustrated it, and the writings of historians and poets celebrated it. It seems to have been reserved for the present age to produce those philanthropists who endeavour to reverse the process, to begin by loving all mankind in general, before they have learned to love any of the PREFACE. y units of which the whole amount is composed. The love of such persons being so widely diffused, can necessarily possess but little strength ; the stream of their affections being spread over so large a surface must be very shallow. However that may be, we have taken the natural order by writing in praise of our native place, and hope that our pleasing task will gain the approbation of those who, like ourselves, hold Chelsea in loving remembrance as the place of their birth. I beg respectfully to return my hearty thanks to those who have assisted me by becoming subscribers, especially to those who have exerted themselves to procure other subscribers. Those of my old pupils who are among the number deserve special notice. I pray that the blessing of God may be upon them through their future lives, that prosperity may attend their undertakings, that they may be useful and honourable members of society, happy in themselves and families, and an honour to their instructors. I will now take an affec- tionate leave of them with the hope that (while viewing with special Ul>terest their native place) they VI PREFACE. will not stop there, but will pass on to the next step, and (in the same spirit as that which actuated him who wrote " Dulce et decorum est pro patrid mori ") regard that great nation of which they form a part, with peculiar affection, and say from the heart, ** England, with all thy faults, I love thee still." CONTENTS. PAGE. CHELCHED : AN ANGLO-SAXON VILLAGE 1 MEDIEVAL CHELSEA : THE VILLAGE OF PALACES ... 6 MODERN CHELSEA 10 SPES ET FIDES INFRACTA 20 ON HEARING THE BELL TOLLING AT THE ABBEY OF ST. alban's 24 LINES ON THE OPENING OF THE CHELSEA THAMES EMBANKMENT 26 THE FREEING OF THE BRIDGES 30 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. BouRDAS, — , Esq. ... Brown, — , Esq., senr. Brown, Mr., jun. ... Caswell, Mr. Forth, Mr FoRMAN, — , Esq., and Friends Gordon, W., Esq., M.P. ... HoRTON, E., Esq., and Friends McDoNNEL, Mr. MowELS, Mr. OUGHTON, H., Esq. Redwood, G., Esq. Shield, Mr. ... Slater, Mrs. and Friends Stroulger, Mr. COPIES. 4 1 1 2 8 12 1 21 1 2 1 1 2 12 1 (J^ncient dhthu). AN ANGLO-SAXON VILLAGE. (A Picture :— temp. 1066.) Some rude built huts lay scattered by the side Of Britain's noblest river, — at the door Of one a Saxon mother sat, and watched A little fair-haired, blue-eyed child, that played Before the cottage door, with all the glee Of happy childhood, which has not a thought Beyond the present, — for its sunlit sky No cloud obscures, — the past brings no regret. The future brings no fears. 'Twas towards the hour Of eve, — a single bird its vesper lay Was warbling sweetly from a neighbouring tree : Some swans were slowly passing up the stream With smooth and regal motion, towards their home 2 CHELCHED : Among the reeds, that clothed the farther shore, Leaving behind a glittering track of light. The tide was of unwonted height that day ; — The lowlands opposite submerged, (stretching As far as eye could reach) appeared a lake Of size immense, while (on the surface spread) The rich enchantment of the setting sun Gave splendour none could paint. More westward still The village church and rectory appeared, Close to the shore, reflected in the waves, Which gently flowed, illumed with crimson light. The woods that stretched far from the river brink Glowed in the magic hues. The straggling rays Which slanting fell upon the porcine herd That fed beneath the boughs, lent to their eyes (Reddened by the light) a savage lustre. Eound Chelched's village, Art, as yet, had not Fair Nature^s works defaced : — there beauty smiled, Almost primeval, that fair Autumn eve. The rustic labours of the day were o'er. And homeward, now, the weary swains repair With sharpened appetites, from honest toil AN ANGLO-SAXON VILLAGE. O Acquired, to share their evening meal, and then To sleep the sound and dreamless sleep, reserved For weary labour and heaven-bless'd content. The humble inmates of that village felt In their calm lives, monotonous, retired, But rarely change ; — and yet in one short year .Three kings had ruled in England. In that year The saintly Edward to his splendid tomb At Westminster was borne ; — his corpse the first Within those hallowed walls he built, to find Its rest ; — there shrined in honour to remain For countless ages : — the dauntless Harold, then (The latest Saxon monarch) filled the throne, Until at Hastings' field he lost both crown And life ; — and then the Norman conqueror came (A feudal sovereign), who o'er vassals reigned, Whose iron rule the conquered Saxons crushed : But to this little peaceful village came No spoiler, — all kept its wonted order : — The seasons came, and passed, — the seeds were sown, The harvests gathered, — the herds were pastured ; The woods each year gave fuel for the fires Which warmed the huts in Winter, and upon 4 CHELCHED : The mellow walls made dancing sllado^^'^ play. None of the little nmnber were withdrawn From rustic labours, to defend their land From traitorous violence or invading force : — Their Sunday duties, and their week-day toil Alternate claimed their care. The festivals Alone made pulses beat more rapidly ; — When Easter, Whitsun, Christmastide returned, Then new attire was worn ; — both young and old In hearty, harmless merriment indulged : — With joyful shouts the Yule log on the hearth Was placed, and when it blazed, and crackling, sparks Cast forth, within the grateful warmth, circling. They told their tales, and quaffed their cups of ale. Such were the scenes beheld in olden time In Chelched's village, — such were those who passed Their simple lives within its woods and fields. # * * -jf^ * The Saxon mother seated at the door Of her rude cottage, that had watched her child, While glowing sunset melted into eve, Now hears her husband's footsteps, and within Hastes to prepare the welcome evening meal. ^^iiiabal dlkd0ea. THE VILLAGE OF PALACES. Pass we on : — tlie quiet village Clielched, (Almost unknown, obscurely happy), now Has changed its name to Chelsey :— its hovels, And their unlettered inmates too, have passed Away ; — and in their place, ambitious, stand In startling contrast now, mansions costly. Many chambered, elegant, adorned with all Of rare, and beautiful, the age can bring. Which courtiers, heroes, sages, the noblest born Have made their chosen home. Even royalty Itself hither retired, that here, apart, It might enjoy, unbent, the magic charm Of converse unrestrained, free from the chains Of etiquette, — and from state trappings loosed, At ease it might disport. As in the field 6 MEDIEVAL CHELSEA : The noble horse when its day's work is o'er, Unreined, uncurbed, unharnessed, gambols free. So many stately edifices stand Within this once mean village, that 'tis called In lofty style " Village of Palaces." The despot king whose will few dared to thwart Here built a palace, and here his subject Faithful, loyal, illustrious, — Thomas More, Oft met his sovereign, to share his friendship Fatal, and to receive his false caress : — Elizabeth, his daughter, — Virgin Queen, Kenowned, lived here, obscure, till she was called To fill the throne ; — to guide with fearless hand The vessel of the State, that under her England might grow in years, to be the first Amongst the nations, great in arts and arms : Here Anne of Cleves, his wife rejected, lived, Too wise to grieve for loss of dignity, Which daily risk involved, and loss of life, — Dangers from which a humbler lot was free ; — Here Catherine Parr retired, when death released Her, from her tyrant lord, no more to be The prey to his suspicion undeserved, THE VILLAGE OF PALACES. 7 Or, that caprice, which on the smallest base Could build a deadly charge of treason, 'Gainst which even Innocence might j^lead in vain ; (For oft before a venial court such charge, Alas ! had proved a passport to the block :) And many more whose names in History's page Enshrined are found, have made their sojourn here. Brave Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, who won fame With Edward's son at Poitiers and Crescy : — Berkeley made Earl Marshal by the Sovereign, First of Tudor's line, who upon the field Was crowned at Bosworth ; — Sir Eeginald Bray, The first to hail his leader King, who placed Upon the brow of Henry, Richard's crown. Which had been worn in battle, and was found After his death lodged in a hawthorn bush : — - Manchester, selected by his peers to bear Their gratulations to the Second Charles, On his return from exile to the throne : — Shrewsbury, Lord Steward, who with his king Went to that Field renowned, at Guisnes, — " the Field Of Cloth of Gold," in which the nobles sought With lavish cost, each other to outvie, 8 MEDLEVAL CHELSEA : And in the attempt wrecked many a fortune ;— The Countess who built palatial Chatsworth, Oldcoates and Hardwick, and transmitted them Entire (a noble mother's gift, princely, Unequalled) to her son, and thus the house Of Cavendish enriched, with dignity To bear the honours of a ducal crown : — Northumberland, whose mad ambition cost His life : — his Duchess who within the church Lies buried, where her monument remains ; — Nottingham, who in Elizabethan times Lived in the manor house ; — and Hamilton, Who the same year that stern Eebellion brought His master to the block, loyal and brave. Was taken, fighting for the Crown and slain. Thus then in mediaeval times Chelsey Was honoured ; — here tliose by birth illustrious, By merit, and by rank, from courtly fetes Retired awhile, to pass an interval Of happiness in polished rural life. And there find peace, elsewhere oft sought in vain. As from a humble, wayside plant, sometimes By culture's hand, is born a noble flower, THE VILLAGE OF PALACES. So from a few small huts, sprmig up at length, This village of luxurious palaces : — And thus it long continued in honour, Till wonder-working Time, another change "Wrought in its fortunes, and its escutcheon Painted with fresher, broader quarterings. JKciJ^m Chdsea. Another era now begins its course, Whence modern Chelsea dates its birth, — When Sloane retired to spend the latest years That crowned a life useful, laborious, Honoured, within its bounds. Here he lived long And reached a patriarchal age. Here he Arranged at leisure, calm and dignified, Those treasures which by his assiduous hands. In foreign climes, reckless of toil or cost, Had been collected ; — ^those which to the state In a few years, he gave on generous terms, That formed a nucleus, round which both Art And Nature ranged their richest, rarest stores Of every kind, both modem and antique. Until that Institution stood complete, The Country's pride, priceless and unrivalled. This is the noble monument of Sloane MODERN CHELSEA. 11 Which Time cannot destroy, nor storms decay. His churchyard tomb will crumble into dust, (E'en though of late by reverent hands restored). But bequests such as this, with that twin gift, — The garden filled with rare exotic plants, — Are living tributes, that, defying Time, True to their trust, will keep his memory green, Though sculptured stone be levelled with the ground. From small beginnings little Chelched rose In population, riches, influence, Till she attained a height that almost gave To her the right to claim a civic crown. But ere this high position she assumed, An interval of dulness and neglect Was hers, when builders, sordid and grasping, Eaised streets of squalid houses, that became In time, a pest and eyesore. But, again, From her humiliation she arose ; Her slumber over, she began to cast Aside those rags with which she had been clothed While sleeping, and to urge her claim again To honour and distinction, — founded now Upon a broader basis than before, B 2 12 MODERN CHELSEA. With safeguards, such that no unworthy hand Henceforth, would have the power to make her name Awhile a byword, and a jest. Though now No fields are seen, for houses now supply Their places, — though the remorseless axe has done Its work on hedge and tree, — though shady lane And field-path now, no more can lure away From home the willing feet, nor tempt the hand To rifle hedge -rows, with wild flowers fragrant, Or pluck the luscious briar, convolvulus Or honeysuckle sweet, or (bent with dew At morn) the daisy crimson-lipped, or seek On mossy banks, the modest violet : — Though pleasant green retreats, where age After a life of useful toil, might rest, And in the neat and cherished garden, find Fit occupation, now are seen no more ; — Though miles of dusty roads, treeless and shadeless Flanked by long rows of houses in their place, Supply alone the paths of modern times, Tis idle to complain ; the law of change That works elsewhere, works here; it gives and takes: MODERN CHELSEA. 13 If Time inexorable takes away Her rural beauties and delights, she gives Something substantial in return, before Denied, — a moral power, which only wealth, Intelligence, and population, all Combined, could e'er command : — he takes away Her flowery wreath, and gives a golden crown The knight in armour clad, scorned counting-house, Or warehouse : — his dignity would suffer By the grasp of aught save dagger, battle-axe Or sword : — 'tis not so now, for gartered knights. In coronet and ermine richly clad. Complacent view the riches commerce brings. And long to share its profits. One of them Of late consigned his son to trade pursuits, And felt it no disgrace. Thus in Chelsea Trade was ignored in olden times ; but now It brings no sneering word ; — now its marts Are filled with rare, and costly merchandize, And offer to the cultivated eye A feast : — treasures of art are there displayed Of workmanship most exquisite ; — there forms Of wondrous grace in things of common life, 14 MODERN CHELSEA. To charm the most fastidious, are seen. Marks of improvement shew on every side ; — Chelsea lags not now in public spirit Behind her neighbours, while still cling round her The memories of the past, — of chivalry, And tournaments, when ladies gave the prize To brave and peerless knighthood. Chelsea stands Distinguished too by institutions dear To patriot hearts ; — its College and Asylum. In one the pleased spectator may behold Old England's brave defenders, in their age Reposing on their laurels : — peaceful there, Within that noble home, — their Country's gift, Where all conducing to a happy life, (Religious solace, — pleasure innocent, — And employ that makes the hours pass swiftly And pleasantly along) are theirs till deatk Here are pleasure grounds for recreation, — Garden plots for willing hands to till ; — A library, infirmary, and chapel ; The latter hung with trophies that recal Heroic deeds of yore, on fields manured MODERN CHELSEA. 15 With blood, when faithful hands in triumph waved Old England's banner o'er the conquered foe, — Eekindling fire, in eyes grown dim with age. Age with penury mated, comfortless, And friendless ; — seems sunless and despairing, — Awaiting in mute apathy, its exit From an unsympathetic world ; but here Old age is blest : with every want supplied, With every comfort crowned. The Asylum, too. Its younger sister, holds an honoured place In memory. Here the soldier's orphan Finds a happy home ; — each element required To form a useful life, is here supplied. Its royal founder speculated well, For it has brought, and still is bringing now A rich return to him, from grateful hearts Of blessings : — thus he earned most worthily The title that he bore,— "The Soldier's Friend." The Chelsea of our days presents a scene Far different from the past. Mark the river, Which for uncounted years in solitude Rolled grandly on ; then no vessels laden 16 MODERN CHELSEA. With the rich produce of the mine or field Were borne upon its tide ; — no swelling sails Of pleasure craft, with happy crews aboard, Were wafted by the breeze, made musical With merriment. Upon its banks, lonely And unprotected, a few huts alone Rose on the shore to tell that human kind, 'Mid the seclusion here, still claimed a place. And exercised its power undoubted, o'er All the inferior creatures. But now we see Vessels of all kinds, innumerable. Upon its surface ; while upon its banks Mansions and wharfs are found. No longer now Benighted travellers fear the treacherous shore, As in the Stuart's reign, for on it now (No more unfenced and unprotected left) The Embankment vast, its head majestic lifts. Crowned by the river wall, — ^the flood below Defying, even when swelled by wintry rains : — It chafes and spurns confinement, but submits. No fear of overflow now breaks the rest Of those who slumber near. Upon its brow Inscribed might stand — ** For Beauty and Defence ; ' MODERN CHELSEA. 17 For it adorns the shore that it protects. How few the inhabitants of Chelched were When Domesday Book was writ : — at first one Church, A building small and mean, served for her need ; Now scores would be required, if to the Church, Her teeming population all repaired On Sunday morn, to pay with reverent mien, Their weekly homage to the King of Heaven. Chelsea, though once a cipher in the state, Now in the Senate proudly takes her seat. And by her members, speaks and votes on all Pertaining to the welfare of the realm. And gives her counsel both in peace and war. Endued with lofty principles, — with hands Pure from all venial stains, degrading ; — Standing aloof with haughty scorn, from all That interferes with conscience or with right, May she thus keep, and exercise the trust She holds, in honour, to the end of time. 'Twere vain to tell the inhabitants of note In modern Chelsea, illustrious in art, Science, or letters, for they are legion. But there are some apart from those ; who have 18 MODERN CHELSEA. Upon our notice more peculiar claims, — Cheyne, Sloane, Holland, and Cadogan stand, Names linked to Chelsea, with domestic ties That never can be broken (household words) Keminding us of those who helped to make Her what she is, and which shall still be heard In future years, when we have passed away. Even Cadogan's noble house, again Has made its home in Chelsea, and its head (Manorial lord) has now his rightful place : Nor was his local influence long unfelt. Houses enlarged and beautified, — pathways Old and worn, remade ; — all seemed to brighten Under some genial power, before unfelt ; — And here long may he live the fragrant life Of goodness, — to be the central point Whence emanates the glow of happiness To all his hand beneficent can aid, — Even as the rose which in an atmosphere With perfume fraught (its own sweet breathing) dwells. Whatever changes may be wrought by Time In future years, within our island home Chelsea richly dowered, possessing now MODERN CHELSEA. 19 Both population and intelligence, With rank and wealth, to give her utterance weight. Has now the power, with others joined, to check The democratic lawlessness, which seemed At once to threaten, in its blind career. Not only the hurtful and superfluous To destroy, but also to o'erturn what age Had stamped as sacred, and experience wise. And now, dear native place, my hand has traced Thy course from the beginning, small indeed Like the first life-gush of a noble stream ; And like it as it still flows on. By tributaries swelled, until it gains A volume that would bear the proudest ship In safety on its breast. Before thee now A path illustrious opens, tread firm And fearless ; — keep the narrow way and win Fame for thyself, and to thy Country bring Keflected lustre, whilst thou giv'st it aid. SPES ET FIDES INFEACTA. Heb. iii. 17, 18.— Job. xiii. 15. A man went out one summer's morn To sail on the sunny sea, — His eye was bright, and his heart was glad, As joyously floated he. He marked the splendour of the sky With light unspeakable blest, And (as clothed in a robe undefiled) With glory resplendently drest. And as he viewed the wide expanse Of the wavelets dancing bright, And breathed the unpolluted air In a frame of holy delight, He felt in his heart enkindle A love that floods could not chill, That unquenchable, like the Greek fire, No power could darken or kill. SPES ET FIDES INFRACT A. 21 And his voice in exultant strains Eose high as he vaulted along, While " Gloria Deo in excelsis " Pealed forth like an angel's song. " I love Thee, my God, for the power Thy lovely earth to behold, When in majesty waves over all The banner of beauty unrolled. The sun in its glorious splendour, Baptizing the land and the sea In its dazzling effulgence, presents A type most worthy of Thee. And as all enraptured I gaze, My heart is fain to confess The magnificent works of Thy hands No words can ever express. In rapt adoration I bend To Thee, the Author Divine Of the heavens, and the earth, and above Of the orbs unnumbered that shine." 22 SPES ET FIDES INFRAOTA. And so he rejoiced as he went On his bright and happy career, — There was sunshine without, while within No haunting spectres appear. * -^ -jf * * But over the scene comes a change, — The waves no longer at play In the sunshine, like lambkins, seem now Like wolves expecting their prey. Dark ominous clouds overspread The sky, like a funeral pall, And in place of enchantment, there lies The shadow of Death over all. No warm gentle zephyr impels His bark, it now rushes along, — But " Gloria in excelsis " still Is the burden of his song. The hurricane wind that has driven The waves to mountainous heaps, — Wild, mighty, resistless, and grand, To the far horizon sweeps. SPES ET FIDES INFRACTA. 23 The dark waves were his cathedral walls, Lit up with the lightning's flash, And for accompaniment he had The loud rolling thunder's crash. Now mingling with the mighty din. As with maddening swiftness driven Again the " Gloria " swelled, — then ceased, — His song was finished in heaven. ON HEAEING THE BELL TOLLING AT THE ABBEY OF ST. ALBAN'S. The Abbey bell is speaking With the voice of other times, And the summer silence breaking With its slow, sad, solemn chimes. I list with a dreamy languor As the sound goes booming by, — That olden, ghost-like clangour. Which dies in a wailing sigh ; — The fitful cadence falling On the incense-laden air. Of scenes long past is telling. And of quaint forms wandering there, - Of monks who were sweetly chanting Their vespers at close of day, As the red rays came slanting On those antique walls of grey ; — THE BELL OF ST. ALBAN'S. 25 Of those in by-gone ages, Who with ready fingers skilled, The missals illumined pages With marvellous beauty filled, — Of those who in ancient meadows, In gardens and orchards were seen, While (as now) the clouds' soft shadows Moved over the sunlit green. The weary waves come sweeping In the sultry summer tide, Like the dirge of mourners weeping For a lost one by their side. The bright earth, overcasting With their melancholy spell, For all not everlasting Tolling out their pitying knell. LINES ON THE OPENING OF THE CHELSEA THAMES EMBANKMENT. May, 1874. Our work is finished — now be given Praise to the Lord of earth and heaven — The massive river wall in pride, Now rears its head to stem the tide ; And, changed as if by magic hands, A broad and solid pathway stands. Where slime and fetid mud before Covered the air-polluting shore. Honour to all who strove to gain. For us this gift — may it remain Their monument. Upon its face Their names may unborn ages trace. In granite carved — that all may know To whom this mighty work they owe ; — • Freeman and Tite to head the whole, That form the parish patriot roll. THE CHELSEA THAMES EMBANKMENT. 27 Chelsea — a village famed of yore, Nestling in trees, is so no more ; Its power and wealth, and people claini, A city's rights — a city's name. This noble work completed now, With crowning beauty binds her brow ; — For this all Chelsea keeps to-day In honour, joyful holiday. Cast down the barriers ! Let it be A road for all ; for ever free ; Proclaim it now, with trumpet's sound, While joy-peals from the bells ring round. Enter now our glad procession. In triumph march to take possession ; Onward ! this auspicious day, From the spot, where veterans grey On their grounds — (a gallant band), With hands upraised, saluting stand. Then pass the spot, where once a king Away state cares was wont to fling ; And with his noble subject walk. With witty and familiar talk ; — Where famed Elizabeth was seen. 28 LINES ON THE OPENING OF Oft musing 'neath the foliage green \ — Where Holbein's hand with finished grace Made deathless many a princely face. Then, onwards ! Pass the church that rears Its walls that tell of bygone years ; Salute it, for one worshipped here, Whose humble chapel is more dear To honest truthful hearts, than gems Set round unnumbered diadems ; — And Sloane, a name that all revere. Rests from his science labours here. The goal is reached — the task is o'er, — The road is given for evermore ; — For Labour's heavy tread — for Age, That slowly makes its pilgrimage, — For Youth and Health to meet the breeze. Ruffling the river and the trees ; — For invalids to saunter slow. And watch the vessels as they go ; — For rich and poor — an equal share. As the all surrounding air ; For these, and all, this road is free. Sacred to all posterity. THE CHELSEA THAMES EMBANKMENT. 29 Now for tlie Queen and hers — three cheers And may she live to lengthened years, Honoured and loved — and never may Old England see the hapless day, When gallant hearts shall wanting be To guard the Throne and Liberty. THE FEEEING OF THE BRIDGES. May 24th, 1879. IJSr MEMORIAM, Chelsea appears in holiday attire, Streamers are waving gaily on the breeze. From house to house, and stretch across the road, "While balconies in glowing drapery drest, Light up the dull house fronts, and give the streets A continental air. Welcomes flutter On banners in the warm air, or, resting. Speak from walls ; beside the crowded pathway Stand Venetian masts festooned with streamers : But little these would have availed without God's glorious gift of sunshine ; this withheld. All would have seemed a picture unfinished. Cold and lifeless ; but with it, all was bathed In one warm tint of harmony and joy. The faces of the people young and old Were lit by one expression ; all seemed bent THE FREEING OF THE BRIDGES. 31 To honour him who came, at their request, So willingly to sanction all they did, And to declare their bridges free for ever. Children will not forget this day, but tell In future years their children what they saw : — Their Prince and Princess with Royal kinsfolk Without an escort came, trusting and fearless, Through Chelsea's crowded streets : how peals from bells Rang joyous, and royal salutes were fired Announcing his arrival ; how he came With one beside him like his good angel, Fraught with gentleness and beauty ; how he met The parish magnates, stationed at the foot Of Albert Bridge — come to do him honour ; How he with courteous condescension heard The address of Chelsea, and the fair Princess With smiling thanks received the choice bouquet Offered by Cadogan's Countess (Lady Of the Manor) with graceful ease, The gift of Chelsea's fair ones ; how children's voices Pealed forth anon — " God bless the Prince of Wales ;" 32 THE FREEING OF THE BRIDGES. How the band of embryo-aoldiers filled The air with music ; how a veteran rank Saluted as he past ; how above all The poor were not forgotten : the infirm And aged paupers had a spot assigned Where they might see their future King without The pressure of the crowd-r-their faces grouped, (The sterner lines of age relaxed) smiling, « Complacent with subdued enjoyment, thus Forming a study an artist would have loved ; How in one portion of the route the speed Was checked that a sick child, held by its nurse Up to a window, might behold the Prince ; How at night the brilliant fireworks lighted The heavens above, and from Old Thames beneath, Eeflected bright, received a second birth ; That thus the happy day was ended, one On which heaven's special blessing seemed to rest. SHIELD, PRINTER, SLOANE SQUARE, S.W.