William Cartwright
¶[1611-1643]
On the Queen's Return from the Low Countries
¶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 beforeReceived 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 dressOf solemn comeliness:A gather'd mind and an untroubled faceDid give her dangers grace:Thus , arm'd with innocence, secure they moveWhose highest 'treason' is but highest love.