William Cartwright

[1611–1643]

On the Queen’s Return from the Low Countries

[242. William Cartwright]

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.