Hail prince’s phoenix, monarch of all hearts,
Sovereign of love and justice, who imparts
More than thou canst receive; to thee this crown
Is due by birth; but more, it is thine own
By just desert; and ere another brow
Then thine should reach the same, my flood should flow
With hot vermillion gore, and every plain
Level the hills with carcasses of slain,
This isle become a red sea: now how sweet
Is it to me, when love and laws thus meet
To girt thy temples with this diadem,
My nurselings’ sacred fear, and dearest gem.
No Roman, Saxon, Pict by sad alarms
Could this acquire and keep; the heavens in arms
From us repelled all perils, nor by wars
Ought here was won but gaping wounds and scars,
Our lion’s climateric now is past,
And crowned with bays, he rampants free at last.
