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Et sibi & Academiæ pa[r]turientem.
Uc 6 sacris circumflua cœtibus,
H Huc & frequentem, Musa, choris pedem
Fer, annuo doctum labore
Purpureas agitare cunas. Facunditatem provocat, en, tuam Maria partu nobilis altero,
Prolémque Musarum ministram Egregius sibi poscit Infans. Nempe Illa nunquam pignore simplici Sibive soli facta puerpera est:
Partu repercusso, vel absens,
Perpetuos procreat gemellos. Hos Ipsa partus scilicet efficit, Ing ipsa vires carmina suggerit,
Quæ spiritum vitámque donat
Principibus simul & Camoenis. Possit Camoenas, non sine Numine, Lassare nostras Diva puerpera,
Et gaudiis siccare totam
Perpetuis Heliconis undam. Quin experiri pergat, & in vices Certare sanctis conditionibus.
Lis dulcis est, nec indecoro
Alternis Natura Diem meditatur & Umbras,
(Sed quam dissimili sub ratione!) vices.
in Jores Vativial
To the Queen
An Apologie for the length of the following Panegyrick.
Hen you are Mistresse of the song,
To the Queen,
Upon her numerous Progenie,
Ritain the mighty Oceans lovely bride!
Now stretch thy self, fair Isle, and grow; spread wide Thy bosome, and make roome. Thou art opprest With thine own glories, and art strangely blest Beyond thy self: For (lo) the Gods, the Gods Come fast upon thee; and those glorious ods Swell thy full honours to a pitch so high As sits above thy best capacitie.
Are they not ods? and glorious? that to thee
While with thee
And so thou art; their presence makes thee so: They are thy greatnesse. Gods, where-e're they go, Bring their Heav'n with them: their great footsteps place An everlasting smile upon the face Of the glad earth they tread on. Those beames that ampliate mortalitie, And teach it to expatiate, and swell To majestie and fulnesse, deign to dwell, Thou by thy self maist sit, blest Isle, and see How thy great mother Nature dotes on thee. Thee therefore from the rest apart she hurl'd, And seem'd to make an Isle, but made a World.
Time yet hath dropt few plumes since Hope turn'd Joy, And took into his armes the princely Boy, Whose birth last blest the bed of his sweet Mother, And bad us first salute our Prince a brother.
The Prince and Duke of York.
Bright Charles! thou sweet dawn of a glorious day!
The beams that dance in those full stars of thine.
Those hands and thine were hew'n; those cherries mock
Justly, great Nature, didst thou brag, and tell
Seest thou that Marie there? O teach her Mother
These words scarce waken'd Heaven, when (lo) our vows Sat crown'd upon the noble Infants brows. Th'art pair'd, sweet Princesse: In this well-writ book Read o're thy self; peruse each line, each look.
And when th'hast summ'd up all those blooming blisses, Close up the book, and clasp it with thy kisses.
So have I seen (to dresse their mistresse May) Two silken sister-flowers consult, and lay Their bashfull cheeks together: newly they Peep't from their buds, show'd like the garden's Eyes Scarce wak't like was the crimson of their joyes; Like were the tears they wept, so like, that one Seem'd but the others kind reflexion.
The new-borne Prince.
And now 'twere time to say, Sweet Queen, no more.
But in their infinite and endlesse Round
Dy, dy, foul misbegotten Monsters; Dy:
Shine forth; nor fear the threats of boyst'rous Warre.