Spoken to his Majesty upon a New yeares day at night.
The Prologue.
Renowned King, we to your eares commend
These our unpolisht labours, harsh and low,
Hoping your grace will like the Sunne extend,
Those glorious beames that make the Cedars grow,
Shine on the basest shrubs, his vertue's seene
As well in weeds as flowers, for both are greene.
Then let your Majesty by whose aspect
All these sweetgarden flowers, these Trees still flourish,
The least part of your glorious shine reflect
On us: your beames great Brittaines land doth nourish.
Still moving in this bright and luminous sphere,
To joy your Court with many a glad New-yeare.
The Epilogue.
'Mongst other presents, high and sacred King,
This solemne day presented at your seat
Their tribute love, your humble vassals bring.
But though our gifts be small, our wills are great,
We come, though naked of desert or merit,
Yet arm'd with wishes, and devoutest prayer,
Trusting you many ages may inherit
That high Tribunall, peace and love prepare,
That this first day which enters a new yeare,
On which the two fac't Ianus lookes with joy,
May many seasons hence, with gladsome cheare,
Be hallowed still, that heavens hand may destroy
Your enemies: and so your friends maintaine.
They many yeares hence may admire your raigne
