Poems On several Occasions, and Translations Wherein The First and Second books of Virgil's Aeneis are attempted, In English. By Tho. Fletcher |
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A Song to his Majesty at VVinton. 1684. |
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 | Poems On several Occasions, and Translations |  |
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A Song to his Majesty at VVinton. 1684.
From the troubles of State, and the Noise of the Town,
From being as busie as great,
From the tedious Pomp that attends on a Throne,
To Quiet and Us you retreat.
From being as busie as great,
From the tedious Pomp that attends on a Throne,
To Quiet and Us you retreat.
Here you spend those soft hours in Princely delight,
Which alone do the recompence bring
For the business and cares which wait on the Great,
For being so wise, so gracious a King.
Which alone do the recompence bring
For the business and cares which wait on the Great,
For being so wise, so gracious a King.
Thus while the World was innocent and new,
Gods, kind and bountiful, like you,
Tir'd with the long Fatigue of Majesty,
Oft forsook their Thrones on high.
Gods, kind and bountiful, like you,
Tir'd with the long Fatigue of Majesty,
Oft forsook their Thrones on high.
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And to some humble Cell vouchsaf'd to go,
And by their sweet Retreat below,
Bless'd both themselves and Mortals too.
And by their sweet Retreat below,
Bless'd both themselves and Mortals too.
Cho.
Welcome, Great Sir, with all the joyThat's to your Sacred Presence due;
With all the Mirth which we enjoy,
That Mirth which we derive from you.
Ver.
Blest by your Presence every thing
Does with new Vigour now appear.
Another fresh and blooming Spring
Seems to recall the aged Year.
Does with new Vigour now appear.
Another fresh and blooming Spring
Seems to recall the aged Year.
The happy Hours, which hasten hither,
Creep hence unwillingly and slow.
Time doubting stands, and knows not whether
Nature to obey or You.
Creep hence unwillingly and slow.
Time doubting stands, and knows not whether
Nature to obey or You.
Yet, might it your acceptance find,
Each Minute should for ever stay:
But see! the Crouds, which press behind,
Force the foremost Hours away.
Each Minute should for ever stay:
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Force the foremost Hours away.
Ceres for you would have reserv'd her store,
But for such greatness thought the sight too poor:
And not unjustly fear'd she might become,
By being too officious, troublesome.
And the God of our Art bid us come to salute you'
And begs you would kindly accept of our Duty:
But refus'd to assist us with his Divine Fires.
How should they want a God whom your Presence inspires.
But for such greatness thought the sight too poor:
And not unjustly fear'd she might become,
By being too officious, troublesome.
And the God of our Art bid us come to salute you'
And begs you would kindly accept of our Duty:
But refus'd to assist us with his Divine Fires.
How should they want a God whom your Presence inspires.
Cho.
Therefore we freely come to praiseYou, the Author of our Joys;
To own our happiness, and grow
Much more happy by doing so.
For Angels themselves, who are perfect in Joys,
No more happiness know than this,
To see, and adore, to love and to praise
The Fountain of their Bliss.
No more happiness know than this,
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The Fountain of their Bliss.
| Poems On several Occasions, and Translations | |