There is a lady crown'd so high,
She hath equal none beneath the sky;
When in the world there is war's wild stir,
Millions of hearts beat strong for her.
No diadem bediamonded
On haughty autocrat's heavy head
Rivals the circlet on her brow,—
She is the Gräfin von Rosenau.
Heiress she, from her queenly hour,
Of a loyal love that is greater than power —
Of a knightly worship, known of old
When a lady grasps the sceptre of gold —
Of an ancient, glorious name, so great
That to change it were to anger fate;
Loftiest throne in the world, I trow,
That of Gräfin of Rosenau.
Heiress of high Elizabeth,
Her people ask, with eager breath,
Wherefore fly from the fair home scene,
While a pliant premier disposes his queen,
And with ancient history dares to play tricks,
Ruling us all with his Imperatrix?
Thus all men ask, who loyalty vow
To the Gräfin von Rosenau.
Will it be well, when another shall reign
Over England's empire, land and main,
For the future lord of the realm to say,
"Throw this despot name away!
An emperor is a trivial thing;
English and Indians, I am your king"?
Better to check the madness now, —
Think of it, Gräfin von Rosenau.
