Hail, Virgin Queen! o'er many an envious bar
Triumphant, snatched from many a treacherous wile!
All hail, sage Lady, whom a grateful Isle
Hath blest, respiring from that dismal war
Stilled by thy voice! But quickly from afar
Defiance breathes with more malignant aim;
And alien storms with home-bred ferments claim
Portentous fellowship. Her silver car,
By sleepless prudence ruled, glides slowly on;
Unhurt by violence, from menaced taint
Emerging pure, and seemingly more bright:
Ah! wherefore yields it to a foul constraint
Black as the clouds its beams dispersed, while shone,
By men and angels blest, the glorious light?
Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part Ii. - Xxxviii - Elizabeth
William Wordsworth
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Poem topics: car, home, light, silver, war, voice, claim, bright, pure, queen, lady, black, grateful, defiance, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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