Yet thinks it so. But even that too Say then, dread queen, how may we do Needs must your noble praises' strength, To the Queen; UPON HER NUMEROUS PROGENY: A PANEGYRIC. Britain! the mighty Ocean's lovely bride! Now stretch thyself (fair Isle) and grow; spread wide Are they not odds? and glorious? that to thee Are gilded with the union of those rays 32 Whose each divided beam would be a sun, Sure if for these thou mean'st to find a seat, And so thou art; their presence makes thee so: Of the glad earth they tread on; while with thee And teach it to expatiate, and swell To majesty and fulness, deign to dwell; Thou by thyself may'st sit (blest Isle), and see Time yet hath dropt few plumes since Hope turned Joy, And took into his arms the princely Boy, Whose birth last blest the bed of his sweet mother, The Prince and Duke of York. Bright Charles! thou sweet dawn of a glorious day! Henry and James? or Mars and Phoebus rather? O thou full mixture of those mighty souls Of peace and war; thou for whose manly brow Thy little self in less: trace in these eyne The beams that dance in those full stars of thine. From the same snowy alabaster rock Those hands and thine were hewn ; those cherries mock The coral of thy lips. Thou wert of all This well-wrought copy the fair principal. Lady Mary. Justly, great Nature, didst thou brag and tell See'st thou that Mary there? O, teach her mother Fellow this wonder too, nor let her shine Alone; light such another star, and twine Lady Elizabeth. These words scarce wakened Heaven, when, lo! our vows Sat crowned upon the noble infant's brows. Th' art paired, sweet princess: in this well-writ book Read o'er thyself; peruse each line, each look. And when th' hast summed up all those blooming blisses, Close up the book, and clasp it with thy kisses. So have I seen (to dress their mistress May) Two silken sister-flowers consult, and lay Their bashful cheeks together; newly they Peeped from their buds, showed like the garden's eyes Scarce waked like was the crimson of their joys, Like were the tears they wept, so like, that one Seemed but the other's kind reflection. The New-born Prince. And now 'twere time to say, sweet queen, no more. That word's a warrant, by whose virtue I Have full authority to bid you die. Die, die, foul misbegotten monsters! die : Make haste away, or e'er the World's bright eye Blush to a cloud of blood. O far from men Fly hence, and in your Hyperborean den Hide you for evermore, and murmur there Where none but Hell may hear, nor our soft air Shrink at the hateful sound. Meanwhile we bear, High as the brow of Heaven, the noble noise And name of these our just and righteous joys, Where Envy shall not reach them, nor those Ears Whose tune keeps time to aught below the spheres. But thou, sweet supernumerary star, Shine forth; nor fear the threats of boisterous War. While thou, fair halcyon, on a sea of balm Shalt float; where, while thou lay'st thy lovely head, To whispers, soft as thine own slumbers be, Shine then, sweet supernumerary star, Nor fear the boisterous names of blood and war: They've here no other business but to die. |