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Ad Reginam,

Et sibi & Academiæ pa[r]turientem.

Ucô sacris circumflua cœtibus,

Huc frequentem, Musa, choris pedem Fer, annuo doctum labore

Purpureas agitare cunas.

Foecunditatem 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,
Que 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
Pulvere, sic potuisse vinci.

Alternis Natura Diem meditatur & Umbras,
Hinc atro, hinc albo pignore facta parens.
Tu melior Natura tuas, dulcissima, servas
(Sed quam dissimili sub ratione!) vices.

Candida Tu, & partu semper Tibi concolor omni:

Hinc Natam, hinc Natum das; sed utrinque Diem.

To the Queen

in Jores Vativial

An Apologie for the length of the following Panegyrick.

W Mighty Queen, to thinke it long,

Hen you are Mistresse of the song,

Were treason 'gainst that Majesty
Your vertue wears. Your modesty
Yet thinks it so. But ev'n that too
(Infinite, since part of You)

New matter for our Muse supplies,
And so allowes what it denies.

Say then Dread Queen, how may we doe
To mediate 'twixt your self and You?
That so our sweetly temper'd song
Nor be [too] short, nor seeme [too] long.
Needs must your Noble prayses strength
That made it long excuse the length.

To the Queen,

Upon her numerous Progenie,

A Panegyrick.

BNow 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.

Ritain the mighty Oceans lovely bride!

Are they not ods? and glorious? that to thee
Those mighty Genii throng, which well might be
Each one an ages labour? that thy dayes
Are gilded with the union of those rayes
Whose each divided beam would be a Sunne

To glad the sphere of any nation?

Sure, if for these thou mean'st to find a seat

Th' hast need, O Britain, to be truly Great.

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

While with thee

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!
Centre of those thy Grandsires (shall I say,
Henry and James? or, Mars and Phoebus rather?
If this were Wisdomes God, that Wars stern father,
"Tis but the same is said: Henry and James
Are Mars and Phoebus under diverse names.)
O thou full mixture of those mighty souls
Whose vast intelligences tun'd the Poles
Of peace and war; thou, for whose manly brow
Both lawrels twine into [one] wreath, and woo
To be thy garland: see, sweet Prince, O see,
Thou, and the lovely hopes that smile in thee,
Art ta'n out and transcrib'd by thy great Mother:
See, see thy reall shadow; see thy Brother,
Thy little self in lesse: 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 hew'n; those cherries mock
The corall of thy lips: Thou wert of all

This well-wrought copie the fair principall.

Lady Mary.

Justly, great Nature, didst thou brag, and tell
How ev'n th' hadst drawn that faithfull parallel,
And matcht thy master-piece. O then go on,
Make such another sweet comparison.

Seest thou that Marie there? O teach her Mother
To shew her to her self in such another.

Fellow this wonder too; nor let her shine

Alone; light such another star, and twine

Their rosie beams, that so the morn for one

Venus may have a Constellation.

Lady Elizabeth.

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. Fair source of Princes, is thy pretious store

Not yet exhaust? O no.

Heavens have no bound,

But in their infinite and endlesse Round

Embrace themselves. Our measure is not theirs;
Nor may the pov'rtie of mans narrow prayers
Span their immensitie. More Princes come:
Rebellion, stand thou by; Mischief, make room:
War, Bloud, and Death (Names all averse from Joy)
Heare this, We have another bright-ey'd Boy:
That word's a warrant, by whose vertue I
Have full authority to bid you Dy.

Dy, dy, foul misbegotten Monsters; Dy:
Make haste away, or e'r the world's bright Eye
Blush to a cloud of bloud. O farre from men
Fly hence, and in your Hyperborean den
Hide you for evermore, and murmure there
Where none but Hell may heare, nor our soft aire
Shrink at the hatefull sound. Mean while we bear
High as the brow of Heaven, the noble noise
And name of these our just and righteous joyes,
Where Envie shall not reach them, nor those eares
Whose tune keeps time to ought below the spheres.
But thou, sweet supernumerary Starre,

Shine forth; nor fear the threats of boyst'rous Warre.
The face of things has therefore frown'd a while
On purpose, that to thee and thy pure smile
The world might ow an universall calm;
While thou, fair Halcyon, on a sea of balm

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