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Towered like the imperial Thistle, not unfurnished
With its appropriate grace, yet rather framed
To be admired, than coveted and loved.
Even at that age, she ruled as sovereign Queen
Among her Play-mates; else their simple sports
Had wanted power to occupy a mind
Held in subjection by a strong controul
Of studious application, self-imposed.
Books were her creditors; to them she paid,
With pleasing, anxious eagerness, the hours
Which they exacted; were it time allowed,
Or seized upon by stealth, or fairly won,
By stretch of industry, from other tasks.
—Oh! pang of sorrowful regret for them
Whom, in their youth, sweet study has enthralled,
That they have lived for harsher servitude,
Whether in soul, in body, or estate!
Such doom was hers; yet nothing could subdue
Her keen desire of knowledge; or efface
Those brighter images—by books impressed
Upon her memory; faithfully as stars
That occupy their places,—and, though oft
