He stood beneath a lilac-spray, And never a word he said; But, as I stole out of the house, He pointed over the orchard boughs, Where, not with dawn or sunset, The Northern sky grew red. I followed him, and half in fear, To the old farm-gate again; And, round the curve of the long white road, I saw that the dew-dashed hedges glowed Red with the grandeur drawing near, And the torches of her train. They carried her down with singing, With singing sweet and low, Slowly round the curve they came, Twenty torches dropping flame, The heralds that were bringing her The way we all must go. 'Twas master William Dethick, The Garter King of Arms, Before her royal coach did ride, With none to see his Coat of Pride, For peace was on the countryside, And sleep upon the farms; Peace upon the red farm, Peace upon the grey, Peace on the heavy orchard trees, And little white-walled cottages, Peace upon the wayside, And sleep upon the way. So master William Dethick, With forty horse and men, Like any common man and mean Rode on before the Queen, the Queen, And--only a wandering pedlar Could tell the tale again. How, like a cloud of darkness, Between the torches moved Four black steeds and a velvet pall Crowned with the Crown Imperiall And--on her shield--the lilies, The lilies that she loved. Ah, stained and ever stainless Ah, white as her own hand, White as the wonder of that brow, Crowned with colder lilies now, White on the velvet darkness, The lilies of her land! The witch from over the water, The fay from over the foam, The bride that rode thro' Edinbro' town With satin shoes and a silken gown, A queen, and a great king's daughter,-- Thus they carried her home, With torches and with scutcheons, Unhonoured and unseen, With the lilies of France in the wind a-stir, And the Lion of Scotland over her, Darkly, in the dead of night, They carried the Queen, the Queen.