Heiress Presumptive
O Royal Cherub! first-born of the queen!
Sweet babe! bright creature! light of all our eyes!
Young heavenly visitant! from the blue skies,
And from the Guelphs, descended! thou hast been
As a new moon to Britain—not a son;
But half a loaf is better far than none—
And so we welcomed thee; but oh! I ween,
(Not thee—I leave thy nurses to wean thee,)
Towards the next our expectations lean
Upon Hope’s anchor, wishing for a “He;”
Who shall sometime rule Britons and the sea;
And till he rules our land and ocean green,
The princedom of its Wales his own will be,
That he may learn the trick of sovranty!