Upon thy sacred purple, barr'd with fire,
I gratulate thee--glorious, lov'd attire!
For on those shoulders I see Justice shine,
And glad to hide within those folds of thine.
O finely there she shoots her purple beam,
And teaches here her rays brightly to gleam.
May Justice thus in pomp eternal go,
Here always wish her golden star to glow!
Thus blaze, and ne'er thy purple pale its blush,
And never need into thy face to flush.
From innocent blood ne'er drink a deeper dye,
And turn more crimson from such cruelty.
Let all fair virtues--for thou ownest all--
Calmly to heaven above thy footsteps call.
No widows' tears thy marble halls distil,
No house cry out against thee, built by ill;
No timber cut for thee its downfall groan,
'Mid its lord's murmurs sadly overthrown.
May Fame spread out her wings beneath thy feet,
And thee with loud applause her trumpet greet!
May incense waft thy name where'er it goes,
The happy gale which bears thee bear the rose!
Live equal to thy prayers, most just are they,
Whatever stars direct thee on thy way,
Till this thy purple turn to robe of snow,
And where the rose had been, the lily glow! R. WI.