Yet shall wear the crown of morn.
Mary, Thou whose love may turn
Eyes that after evil burn,
Draw his soul, that strays so far,
To Thy Son's white throning-star.
Queen of Heaven, hear my prayer!
HERD: Guenevere! O Guenevere!
MOTHER: Low she lies, and may not hear.
The white lily, Guenevere,
Ruthless time has trodden down;