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Secular poetry.

II.

AIRELLES.

UPON THE KING'S CORONATION.1

Sound forth, cælestiall organs, let heauen's quire
Ravish the dancing orbes, make them mount higher
With nimble capers, & force Atlas tread
Vpon his tiptoes, e're his siluer head
Shall kisse his golden curthen. Thou glad Isle,

.
That swim'st as deepe in joy, as seas, now smile ;
Lett not thy weighty glories, this full tide
Of blisse, debase thee; but with a just pride
Swell : swell to such an height, that thou maist vye
With heauen itselfe for stately majesty.
Doe not deceiue mee, eyes : doe I not see
In this blest earth heauen's bright epitome,
Circled with pure refined glory? heere
I view a rising sunne in this our sphere,
Whose blazing beames, maugre the blackest night,
And mists of greife, dare force a joyfull light.
The gold, in wch he flames, does well præsage
A precious season, & a golden age.
Doe I not see joy keepe his revels now,
And sitt triumphing in each cheerfull brow?

i Charles I. See our Essay on this and kindred poems, and their relation to the Latin royal poems. G.

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With a black maske : the clouds with child by Greife
Traueld th' Olympian plaines to find releife.
But at the last (having not soe much power
As to refraine) brought forth a costly shower
Of pearly drops, & sent her numerous birth
(As tokens of her greife) vnto the Earth.
Alas, the Earth, quick drunke with teares, had reel'd
From of her center, had not Ioue vpheld
The staggering lumpe : each mye spent all its store,
As if heereafter they would weepe noe more:
Streight from this sea of teares there does appeare
Full glory flaming in her owne free sphere.
Amazed Sol throwes of his mournfull weeds,
Speedily harnessing his fiery steeds,
Vp to Olympus' stately topp he hies,
From whence his glorious rivall hee espies.
Then wondring starts, & had the curteous night
Withheld her vaile, h' had forfeited his sight.
The joyfull spheres with a delicious sound
Afright th' amazed aire, and dance a round
To their owne musick, nor (untill they see
This glorious Phoebus sett) will quiet bee.
Each
aery

Siren now hath gott her song,
To whom the merry lambes doe tripp along
The laughing meades, as joyfull to behold
Their winter coates couer'd with flaming gold.
Such was the brightnesse of this Northerne starre,
It made the virgin phoenix come from farre

VOL. I.

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