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And what a destiny was hers!
A fair and youthful bride,
When danger filled her husband's path,
She shared it by his side.
A mother next – and infant eyes
To hers looked fondly up.
Ah! Was not that the dearest drop,
That blessed their mingled cup?
A widowed mother then we see,
Amid that youthful band;
And, one by one, they left her side,
To shine in every land.
A woman next – whom friendly fates
Had raised on rapid wings,
The parent of a royal race,
A family of kings.
And then – an exile, sad and lone,
Lamenting one – all glories flown –
In sorrow's hour uncomforted,
Like Rachel, mourning for her dead.