A Welcome To Her Royal Highness Marie Alexandrovna, Duchess Of Edinburgh.

A poem by Alfred Tennyson

The son of him with whom we strove for power—
Whose will is lord thro’ all his world-domain—
Who made the serf a man, and burst his chain—
Has given our prince his own imperial Flower,
And welcome, Russian flower, a people’s pride,
To Britain, when her flowers begin to blow !
From love to love, from home to home you go,
From mother unto mother, stately bride,
Marie Alexandrovna!

The golden news along the steppes is blown,
And at thy name the Tartar tents are stirr’d ;
Elburz and all the Caucasus have heard ;
And all the sultry palms of India known,
The voices of our universal sea
On capes of Afric as on cliffs of Kent,
The Maoris and that Isle of Continent,
And loyal pines of Canada mumur thee,
Marie Alexandrovna!

Fair empires branching, both, in lusty life!—
Yet Harold’s England fell to Norman swords;
Yet thine own land has bow’d to Tartar hordes
Since English Harold gave its throne a wife,
For thrones and peoples are as waifs that swing,
And float or fall, in endless ebb and flow;
But who love best have best the grace to know
That Love by right divine is deathless king,
Marie Alexandrovna!

And Love has led thee to the stranger land,
Where men are bold and strongly say their say;—
See, empire upon empire smiles to-day,
As thou with thy young lover hand in hand
So now thy fuller life is in the west,
Whose hand at home was gracious to thy poor:
Thy name was blest within the narrow door ;
Here also, Marie, shall thy name be blest,
Marie Alexandrovna!

Shall fears and jealous hatreds flame again?
Or at thy coming, Princess, everywhere,
The blue heaven break, and some diviner air
Breathe thro’ the world and change the hearts of men,
But hearts that change not, love that cannot cease,
And peace be yours, the peace of soul in soul!
And howsoever this wild world may roll,
Between your peoples truth and manful peace,

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