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Sonnet 2.
[But what new Sunne doth now adorne our Land]
But what new Sunne doth now adorne our Land,
And giues our skie so smooth and smiling cheer?
For, 'tis not Phœbus; els his golden brand
Shines brighter now then 't hath don many a yeer.
Sweet Angel-beauty (sacred Peace) Heav'ns present;
Is't not the Rising of thy new-com starr,
Which makes the Air more clear, the spring more pleasant,
Zephyre more calm, and Flora merrier?
Ah, I perceiue the Oliue, Doue, and Bowe,
Divine presages that the Flood abates
(The dismal flood where blood and tears did flowe)
And Ianus now locks-vp his Temple gates:
Iustice and Faith doo kindly kisse each other:
And Mars, appeas'd, sits down by Cupids Mother.
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