Lines to Queen Victoria on the death of the Prince Consort
Return dear widow’d Queen, return,
Why dwell so long in sad exile?
For thee, fair Albion’s pride, we mourn,
greet us with thy gracious smile.
What’s though enveloped as thou art
In sable weeds of saddest hue,
Thou dwellst in every British heart,
We are the loyal and the
Thy royal robes thou’st cast away,
Thy diadem of brilliant hue,
Thy sceptre now has lost its sway,
To mourn for one thou loved so true.
Couldst thou behold that
Encircled round his radiant brow,
Methinks thy sorrows would go down,
And bitter tears would cease to flow.
Come with thy royal children dear,
Father and Mother
both unite (combine),
Teach them the mighty God to fear,
That they in glory all may shine.
And when thy earthly course is run,
And thou thy honours must lay down,
By faith in
Jesus it is won
That great that glorious heav’nly crown.
Then may you meet above the sky,
And join that everlasting song,
Where Hallelujahs never die
In praise of the
Great Three in One.
Composed by Ann Barratt, a poor woman aged 74, of Winteringham, Lincolnshire, 1862. The words were taken down by the Curate as dictated by the old woman.
Although described here as “the old woman”, Ann lived for another 20 years. After the terrible storm of December
1874, Ann wrote a poem about the rescue of 15 people at Winteringham. Her poem was published as a penny broadsheet by Peck of Hull, and can be read (together with a newspaper description of
the events) here