HALLOW the threshold, crown the posts anew!     The day shall have its due. Twist all our victories into one bright wreath,     On which let honour breathe; Then throw it round the temples of our Queen! 'Tis she that must preserve those glories green.

When greater tempests than on sea before     Received her on the shore; When she was shot at 'for the King's own good'     By legions hired to blood; How bravely did she do, how bravely bear! And show'd, though they durst rage, she durst not fear.

Courage was cast about her like a dress     Of solemn comeliness: A gather'd mind and an untroubled face     Did give her dangers grace: Thus, arm'd with innocence, secure they move Whose highest 'treason' is but highest love.