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To the never enough Honoured E. of St. on New-yeares day at night, after other entertainment.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To the never enough Honoured E. of St. on New-yeares day at night, after other entertainment.

Sir, give me leave to Court your stay,
There is somthing I must pay,
Due to your greatnesse, and the day,
Which by a revolution of the Sphere
Is proud to open the New-year,
And having look'd on you, hath hid his face,
And chang'd his robe, with stars to grace
And light you going to bed, so wait
With trembling lustre on your state.
Shine brighter yet, y'are not the same,
Cleer Lamps you were, shine like the name
Of him I bow to, while a flame

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Active and burning here with pure desires,
Shall equal your best borrow'd fires.
May health, the bosoms friend stream through your blood
And know no end of the chast flood:
And though time shift, and yeers renew,
May yet the Spring be still in you.
May she, whom heaven hath sweetly grac'd
And in your noble bosome plac'd,
Whose heart, by onely you embrac'd
Hath made one true and holy Gordian prove
Fruitful in children as in love:
And may that fair top-branch, whose early bloom
Doth promise all the fruit can come
To vertue, and your name, be blest,
And live a story to the rest.
All honour with your same increase,
In your bosome dwell soft peace,
And Justice the true root of these.
Wealth be the worst, and outside of your fate,
And may not heav'n your life translate,
Till for your Royal Master, and this Isle
Your acts have fill'd a Chronicle.
In all that's great and good, be bold,
And every yeer be coppy of the old.