On the late Attempt to assassinate Her Majesty

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.