 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
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An Ode on the Queens Birth-Day, Sang before their Majesties at Whitehal.
By Tho. Shadwell.
Now does the glorious Day appear,
The mightiest Day of all the Year;
Not any one such Joy could bring,
Not that which ushers in the Spring.
The mightiest Day of all the Year;
Not any one such Joy could bring,
Not that which ushers in the Spring.
That of ensuing Plenty hopes does give,
This did the hope of Liberty retrieve;
This does our Fertile Isle with Glory Crown,
And all the Fruits it yields we now can call our own.
On this blest day was our Restorer born,
Far above all let this the Kalender Adorn.
This did the hope of Liberty retrieve;
This does our Fertile Isle with Glory Crown,
And all the Fruits it yields we now can call our own.
On this blest day was our Restorer born,
Far above all let this the Kalender Adorn.
II.
It was a work of full as great a weight,And require the self-same Power,
Which did frail Humane kind Create,
When they were lost them to restore;
For a like Act, Fate gave our Princes Birth,
Which adding to the Saints, made Joy in Heaven,
As well as Triumphs upon Earth,
To which so great, so good a Queen was given.
III.
By beauteous softness mixt with Majesty,An Empire over every Heart she gains,
And from her awful Power none could be free,
She with such Sweetness and such Justice Reigns:
Her Hero too, whose Conduct and whose Arms
The trembling Papal World their Force most yield,
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And give up all the Trophies of each Field.
Our dear Religion, with our Laws defence,
To God her Zeal, to Man Benevolence;
Must her above all former Monarch raise
To be the everlasting Theme of Praise;
No more shall we the great Eliza boast,
For her Great Name in Greater Mary's will be lost.
Now now, with one united Voice
Let us aloud proclaim our Joys;
Io Triumphe let us sing,
And make Heaven's mighty Concave Ring.
Let us aloud proclaim our Joys;
Io Triumphe let us sing,
And make Heaven's mighty Concave Ring.
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