II.
Poor is her diet, and hardly she lies—
Yet a monarch might kneel for a glance of her eyes.
The child of a peasant—yet England's proud Queen
Has less rank in her heart, and less grace in her mien.
III.
Her brow 'neath her raven hair gleams, just as if
A breaker spread white 'neath a shadowy cliff—
And love, and devotion, and energy speak
From her beauty-proud eye, and her passion-pale cheek.