Like some old vision of a Fairy bright,
Armida, Glorian, or Titania hight,
Advanced our Monarch; straightway every face
On her alone was turned, as with delight
All marked some queenly attribute, some grace
Before unknown, that opened forth to sight—
Nor cowardice, nor blighting sorrow-trace
In that majestic countenance had place.
And can it be, that one of woman bred
Was found the land all o'er, that durst upraise
His hand against that fair anointed head?—
But She is saved!—To Heaven be the praise!—
Be his, the Lord's Anointed's blood to shed
Who strove, a name detested all his days.