The festival is made for thee—
Come—join the queenly pageantry!
Oh, loveliest lady! turn not pale—
Why should thy lofty courage fail?
See England’s proudest chivalrie
Wait at thy feet to bend the knee—
To raise thee to the Tudor’s throne
Their duty, and their hearts thine own!
Even haughty Mary boweth low
And offereth thee her loyal vow—