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A Fvneral Elegie

Vpon The Mvch Lamented Death Of The Trespuissant and vnmatchable King, King Iames, King of Great Brittaine, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith. Who to the vniuersall sorrow of the Princes his Allies, his owne Kingdomes and people, expired the 27. of March, Anno 1625. In the yeere of his reigne 23. Written by Thom. Heywood
 
 

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To the sad Reader.

To thee; (Compassionate Reader) ere I pay
My last of Duties to this Royall Clay,
(For best of man's no better) giue me leaue
Some thing to speake, which (I intreat) receiue
With as prepar'd, and well-dispos'd a minde,
As it is freely to thy view disign'd.
I haue obseru'd, and still me thinkes I see
Beneath this goodly and faire flourishing Tree,
(Now ruin'd and demolisht) Plants that grow
Vnder his shadow, such as all men know,
By his protection cheer'd and kept aliue,
Their growth and beauties multiply and thriue,
Sweld with increase, their boughs on him depending,
Laden with ripe fruits to the ground euen bending,
Both shadowed from the Winters bleake extremes,
And (in the Summer) the Sunnes scorching beames.
Yet this faire Dodon Oake, late all-commanding,
Hath in his mightie ruine left them standing:


And not (as we haue seene) great buildings fall,
Crushing and shattering beneath them, all.
Now since euen some still rooted in their places,
Bettred to this day by his former graces:
Others by transplantation, higher rear'd,
And to more eminence in Court preferr'd:
(Excepting still those truely noble Spirits,
That sought to sute his fauours with their merits)
Since some euen deerely by him once affected,
To such great worth and goodnesse haue neglected
Rites due and needfull, as scarse once complaine,
For such a royall Patriot from vs tane.
Excuse me euen the weakest, if I (tho
Not knowne to him) that onely saw him grow
To others profit; haue my griefes displayd,
Yet neuer tasted of his meat or shade.
And this (oh courteous Reader) let suffice,
Now, if thou please, to teares prepare thine eyes.


A Funerall Elegie.

Doubly at once despoil'd, where shall I borrow
T'expresse one priuate grief, a two-fold sorrow?
Oh thou of all the nine, the saddest Muse,
Whose Inuocation I of force must vse,
Giue me direction, in what Funerall straine
A Subiect may a Soueraignes losse complaine.
It were too little should we weepe whole Seas,
And sigh huge tempests, what alas could these?
Or could we to our selues assume a powre
To drop vpon the earth a greater showre
Then made the generall deluge, 'twere too small
Sufficiently to weepe his Funerall.
Let the Gangetick shores their Emperors boast,
Or where Chiaspes is renowned most.
Let Tanais speake of Princes neere it bred;
Let Granicus, that of Darius dead
Keepes memory: or such as crowne the stile
Of Potentates, bred by the Riuer Nile:


Scamander shew thy worthies; or thou Rine
Thy German patriots, or faire Tiber thine
(The all Commanding Cæsars.) Let that flood
That in the greatest competence hath stood
For Ancestry, that flowes through France or Spaine,
They for priority shall serue in vaine:
Since aboue these, or any, Londons Thames
Hath bin made glorious by the great King Iames.
He than the Romans with the Greeks compar'd,
And punctually, their amplitudes declar'd,
Of such as were in vertues antecelling:
Their greatnesse and their goodnesse paralelling,
Though in his search of Annals he might finde
Matches, and likes, in fortunes, and in minde
For Iustice, Mercy, Bounty, Wisdome, Glory,
Or for what else could dignifie a Storie,
Obserues no equall, to Him mourned here,
Who as he liu'd, so dyde without compeere.
For sound instruction, and wise document,
He might haue bin a remark'd president
To th' Sages of whose memory euen Greece
Is proud to this day more then of their Fleece.

Basilicon Doron

For what by any of them hath beene done

Like to his gift bequeath'd vnto his Sonne?
Had graue Hortensius in his time so Fam'd,
Or Cicero by some (before him) nam'd


Heard his smooth eloquence, which was innate,
But theirs, fore-laboured and premeditate,
They would haue fate in silence (as forbearing)
To giue his Language a delightfull hearing.
The Academies both his fluence praise,
And worthily did laureate him with Bayes.
In Parlaments that were by him accited,
Where then the members with the head vnited
Sate in deliberate Counsels, to debate
Of politicke Lawes, and deepe designes of State,
You might obserue them to his words inclining
As to an Oracle: He still diuining
Nothing but common good: did he but speak,
The wisest there, to him compar'd, seem'd weak;
His apprehensions, and conceptions growing
Like Hydraes heads; for with continuall flowing,
Conceit begot conceit, (by all admir'd)
As still in course, and yet at no time tyr'd.
No phrase but was an Apothegme: Inuention
New, and vnwearied to beget attention,
Nothing that slipt him, but to be inrold
By pens of Diamonds, in rich leaues of Gold.
But whether this so sad a depriuation
Be for the many sinnes of this our Nation,
Or for our great Ingratitude, not estimating
So great a blessing: rather vnder-rating


This gemme beneath his value, as possest
Of mighty wealth (like Mysers) nay the best,
Yet in this height of fulnesse, did not vse it
To others good, but in our selues abuse it;
Or to what else our losse we may impute
“This all-good-speaking Oracles are mute,
Yet haue his vertues in their last bequest
Departing to his euerlasting rest,
To recompence the silence of that tongue,
Which might haue still his owne deseruings song
Behinde him left, to all succeeding dayes,
Myriads of pens and tongues to sound his praise.
I onely yet speake to you [illeg.] he spake;
But of his actions who shall notice take,
Shall finde them (if they but consider well)
(As farre as good works, good words) to excell
His Machinations were 'boue common things,
Leauing a president to after Kings,
Of which he onely, and alone might boast,
“That seeming to doe least, he still did most.
The King of Peace this King did imitate,
Who planting it in our domesticke state
Did labour it in others remote hence,
Sparing therein, nor counsell nor expence,
But so his purpose to his Sauiours suited,
Who the command of peace first instituted,


Knowing no better president to finde.
He where he left vs, left his peace behinde.
Yet as the couchant Lyon, when he lyes
Downe to repose and rest, ne're shuts his eyes;
Hee, the like prouidence about him kept,
And still wakt for vs, when he seeming slept;
For when whole Christendome was vp in Armes
Frighting the fearefull Subiect with alarmes.
Nations distracted; euen the great'st abilitie
Of the most potent, weakned with hostility:
Drums each where thundring, & the Canon roaring,
Proud victory 'tweene doubtfull battailes soaring,
While horrid warre, in his extream'st of rage,
Fill'd both the streets and fields with blood and strage;
How haue these late afflicted Kingdomes wondred
To see vs in our blessed Goshen sondered
As freed from Egypts plagues, no way distrest,
Yet they with all calamities opprest.
Ruins attending them; on vs, increase
Still multipli'd by this faire King of peace.
Wherefore should I thus labour to commend
Him, whose renowne is datelesse without end,
Subiect to no expression; their least straine
Not within compasse of the pen or braine,
Scarce dare I further in his praise proceed.
Being a proiect that in me doth breed


Amazement onely; as so far aboue
My weake performance, that the more I loue,
The more I feare, for as a moderate light
Comforts the eye, and benefits the sight,
But view the Sun in's glory, and we finde
That his more perfect lustre strikes vs blinde;
'Tis eath t'apply; His worth being so diuine
In all respects, and so defectiue mine,
Yet shall my loue so farre outstrip my feare,
Rather to dare, then breake abruptly here.
Ere I proceed, let me a little borrow
Space to collect my selfe, nigh drown'd in sorrow.
Beware the Ides of March; 'twas a prediction
To him that had the whole Worlds Iurisdiction,
Iulius, the first of Cæsars, who declin'd
Iust in the houre that was before diuin'd.
In th' Ides of March the blest Eliza fell,
The famous Mother of our Israel.
In March Queene Anne, a Princesse much admir'd
(As much lamented in her death) expir'd.
Now lastly in these ominous Ides of March
Is snatcht away, our strong and glorious Arch,
(As violently by death from vs extorted)
By whom three mighty Kingdomes were supported,
And had he not an Atlas left behinde,
Succeeding him in potency of minde,


In vertue, goodnesse, royalty of State,
And all things, that a Sonne may imitate
So great a Father in; so iust, so wise,
So rare a Phœnix, suddenly to rise
Out of his Ashes: in a Time so small,
We likewise had bin crusht beneath his fall.
Oh ominous Moneth, thou didst our losse presage
When with thy windy and obstreperous rage
Thou vsher'dst in the Spring: yet I commend
Thy going out, thou left'st vs as a friend
And fellow mourner (as to all appeares)
Parting with vs in many showres of Teares,
In strange varieties of stormy weather,
Snow, raine, haile, windes; and in all these together
Weeping and sighing. But (O King) t'attend thee,
How many Noble seruants did death send thee
As harbingers before to view the place,
Where thou art anchor'd now, the land of Grace?
Richmond and Lenox Duke, whose memory was

Lodowick Duke of Richmond and Lenox.


Worthy to be ingrau'd in Iron or Brasse
For his inimitable modesty,
And what doth grace euen Princes honesty,
Integrity of life, nay euery Thing
That might become a kinsman to a King.
It was the noble Earle of Dorsets taske

The Earle of Dorset.


To make one likewise in this dolefull maske,


And much more cause we should haue still to need him,
Had he not left behinde here to succeed him
So braue a brother, one so good, so wise
In all true Noblesse, him to equalise.

The Lord Abigney Duke of Lenox.

Then Lenox Duke, a brother him succeeding

(Alike indow'd) as of one birth and breeding;
In this the partiall sisters were too blame
To take him hence so soon as giue him name:
Now Duke, now dead, stooping to th' earth his knee
Ere he could well expresse what he would be.

Charles Earle of Nottingham

Then Nottingham a Pilot, who did steere

Englands once dreaded Nauie many a yeere;
Who though he cut his cable ere he dyde,
Brought here his Ships in a faire Port to ride.

Henry Earle of Southampton.

Henry, Southamptons Earle, a Souldier proued;

Dreaded in warre, and in milde peace beloued.
Oh giue me leaue a little to resound
His memory, as most in dutie bound,
Because his seruant once. His worth exprest
Can no way be detraction to the rest.
Henry Wriothesly Earle of Sowth-Hampton.
His Anagram.
Thy Honor is woorthe all praise.


A short Elegie vpon the Anagram.

Thy Honour's woorthe all praise: 'tis true, the same,
By which we Anagrammatise thy name,
(Thrice Noble Henry) which, let me define
And first shew wherefore Honour, next, why Thyne;
Last from thy Ashes vrne, to build and raise
A Monument to proue it, Woorthe All prayse.
If onely that bare honour here were ment
Which Heraldry allowes thee from discent,
And onely that inherent, vnderstood
Which lineally Nobilitates the blood,
It rankes thee equall with the great'st of Peeres,
Deriuing thee from long forgotten yeeres.
But that's thy least (though some affect it most,
(Of that which is not ours, why should we boast?)
The noble seedes in our fore-fathers sowne,
May well be tearm'd our Grandsires, not our owne;
But happy those, their Ruins can repaire,
And husband still, their Names from heire to heire;
Wriothesley was such, in all things striuing
To gaine a Name, by Arts, and Armes: suruiuing
Beyond all Marble, which at this time weepes
Vpon the bed where now this worthy sleepes.


Cambridge, thy pupillage; thy youth, the Court,
And singularity there can best report:
Of thy braue valour Ireland witnesse can,
Writing thee Souldier, euen as soone as Man.
And what as natiue was in thee begon,

The Lord Wriothesly son to the Earle Henry

Thy valour left successiue to thy Son

Let Belgia mourne with vs a double losse,
Your gold repur'd thence, you haue left them drosse.
Let me looke backe againe to Ireland; where
Me thinkes I see thee a braue Cheualeere,
Commanding others, and so farre extend
Thy worth; as onely to be tearm'd the friend

Robert Deuorax Earle of Essex.

Of Noble Essex: such thy friendship was,

Deseruing to be character'd in Brasse
And euer read: shrield with a stentor's breath,
'Twixt you it liu'd, and parted not in death.
Thy patience in thy troubles thousands sing,
Thy innocence, the goodnesse of the King
Crown'd at's inauguration; whose free grace
Suited thy merits both with gifts and place;
And thou whose wisdome seem'd obscur'd but late,
Thought worthy to be Councellor of State,
And honour'd with the Garter: we finde then
Kings through the brest, see more then common men.
Religion, which becomes a Statesman best,
Was in thy bosome planted, and imprest


Without all schisme or faction, charitie,
Deuotion, bounty, noble curtesie,
Which many (sweld and puft with Title) scorne,
These did thy other vertues much adorne.
Thy brest of all these Iewels was the Mine,
Markes of true Honor all: And all these Thine.
And since their number farre exceeds thy dayes,
I thus conclude, Thy Honours woorthe all prayse.
Next him the Noble Hammelton; a Man,

The Mirquesse of Hamelton.


Whom, let detraction doe the worst it can,
With no despightfull callumnie can brand,
A mighty prop and collume of the Land,
Whose death so much lamented well approues
Him dennison'd in all the peoples loues;
Nor was there euer any Northerne Peere
Better deseru'd, or more bewailed here.
From these I now descend vnto the last

Sir Arthur Chichester Lord Belfast.


That followed them in death, the Lord Belfast,
A Souldier and a Counseller of Warre,
Who though he went where no such turmoiles are,
The Fates thought fit to send him, as forerunning
To tell the Saints, the King of peace was comming.
Now thou most gracious and all dreaded power,
To whom ten thousand yeeres are as one houre,
And ages lesse then Instants, that in measure
Do'st spare or punish: If thy heauenly pleasure


So thinke it fit (but yet thy will be done)
Spare thou the rest still to attend his Sonne.
How may we best consider this great crosse,
So many lands lament, vnlesse the losse
We rate at highest: and to vndertake
That taske, it were impossible: To make
Value of lands we may, of gold, of treasures,
Iewels, and Honour, nay of wealth and pleasures,
Set a full price of our owne liues we may,
And how much we esteeme them. Nay euen they
That enioy Scepters, Crownes, and Kingly state,
May their great glories and abundance rate,
But neuer Him: All these, man may enioy,
Which if he lose, it can but one destroy;
But this priuation is so generall,
(As if all were but one, it toucheth all.)
Oh Royall Sir, beneath whose potent sway,
So many Kingdomes peaceably obay:
How deepe it wounds each loyall subiects brest,
To thinke vpon your losse aboue the rest;
T'imagine you sit mourning 'mongst your Peeres,
Your selfe heart-sad, their eyes all glaz'd in teares:
Let all their eyes vnto their owne hearts turne,
And weepe to thinke that you haue cause to mourne.
Yet why should the least sorrow touch thy heart,
That the sole hope of many millions art?


Or wherefore should the least offensiue brine,
With their salt watrie drops moyst those faire Eyne?
Yet Nature will haue course, Kings and Kings Sons
Must all obey to passion; for it runs
Th'row euerie veine, and with internall zeale,
Despight the brest, it from the heart can steale
Sighs and sad throbs, nor spares it Princes eyes,
But euen from them, drawes teares at obsequies;
But let not one of my weake parts possest,
Dare search the sorrowes of a Kingly brest.
Now ere that you your moistned cheekes can dry,
The newes (for still bad tydings swiftest fly)
As farre as Holland will arriue, and there
Who can expresse the sorrow shall appeare,
To see a great Kings daughter in her pride

The Ladie [illeg.].


Of Loue and Beautie, and by her faire side
Her hopefull Issue (prettie Infants playing)
They, as not capable of her dismaying,
Or what themselues haue lost; but when they spie
Her change of lookes, with a pearle-dropping eye
Distracted, and confus'd, (For who can blame
Strange extasies in her, to heare such fame)
Those little soules for companie to weepe,
To see her fall, those teares she cannot keepe.
What heart so obdure in all her Princely traine,
At this sad sight will not itselfe complaine?


Making the soule within the bosome melt,
Bee't but to see the pangs that she hath felt.
Amidst this dolefull Quire, next to behold

Fredericke P. Pfaltzgraue.

The Princely Pfaltzgraue, vnto whom 'tis told

The cause by this, in whose heroicke brow
You may like passion read, perplexed now,
Whether in his staid thoughts to comfort theirs,
Or adde to griefe with his owne sighs and teares,
Me thinkes I see both in his lookes prepar'd,
But which shall first breake forth, to ghesse 'tis hard.
Me thinkes I heare the passionate Ladie cry,
Oh what a losse King Charles hath, and what I;
What England, Scotland, Ireland, and what All,
Suruiuing his lamented Funerall.
Oh you his ioy, the Peeres selected pleasure
Of forraigne Climes, the praise of ours a Treasure,
On whom your Maker hath his bountie shewed,
And Heauen with all choyse graces hath endued;
Whom euen the Angels loue, and men admire,
Made vp with what perfection can desire
From Earth or Heauen: your health and beautie spare,
He sainted liues, his vertues crowned are.
The whilst we daily of hie Heauen importune,
You may increase in grace and blessed fortune:
Proue thou a Prophet, Muse, say 'tis decreed,
All Christendome may flourish in your seed:


And excellent Pfaltzgraue, may your loues perseuer,
That these our Nations may admire you euer,
Diurnally augment, but not decline,
Till Heauen that gaue you vs, make you diuine.
But doth not Denmarke thinke I doe't some wrong,
T'haue stayd you in the Netherlands so long,
Not to take view of the great sadnesse there,
The blacks they both in hearts and habits weare:
Excuse me, Mightie Christerne, if for haste,

Christerne K. of Denmarke.


To come to thee, I almost had ore-past
Two Princely Germane Ladies, both like neere,

Dutchesse of Saxonie, Dutchesse of Brunswicke, the Kings sisters.


T'expir'd Queene Anne, and to thy selfe as deere.
But on their griefes why should I further dwell,
Since I haue onely a sad tale to tell.
And th'row the world there is no place assign'd,
Where for the present I can comfort finde;
For he that to a sorrowfull heart shall come,
And without comfort, had as good be dumbe:
To search a desperate wound, and haue no skill,
In stead of curing he as soone may kill.
Where others grieue, and I my selfe complaine,
Seeking to ease, I shall but adde to paine.
Then better to be silent: be't not yet
Offensiue, if I loth am to forget,
(Oh Mars-starr'd Denmarke) your fraternall loue

A memory of Queene Anne.


To our deceast Queene Anne, now shrin'd aboue,


When hath it often, nay scarse once beene seene,
So great a King, to see a sister Queene,
And for no other reason, but to please
His eye with her bright glorie, twice the Seas
T'haue crost with danger: his Maiesticke state,
Safetie and ease, leauing, to tempt his fate
'Gainst tempests, gusts, and the swolne surges wrath,
Nay all the fearefull terrours Neptune hath:
Not all the Oceans frownings and affrights
Could stay him from th' inticements and delights
He tooke in her sweet sight: Whirlewinds nor wrack,
No feare of surge or billow kept him backe:
All these exprest his loue; but for Queene Anne,
His Sisters death, his sad laments who can?
My weaknesse I confesse, and therefore leaue it
To some that can more feeling passion giue it,
And come vnto her gratitude, whom Spite,
Nor Enuie can accuse; She to requite
His magnitude of loue, (to giue it name
To all posteritie, and whence it came,)
Her Palace, which to her great charge and cost,
She then repair'd, as there delighting most,
With goodly structures beautified and wall'd,
Late Somerset, now Denmarke House is call'd.
Doe but obserue (I intreat) one thing with me,
To shew the loue and vnanimitie


Betwixt our Royall King, and blessed Queene,
What more remarkt a president hath beene?
As if the heauens to shew his loue vnto her,
And that in death (againe) he ment to woe her,
Haue so ordain'd, that though he dide remote,
Some miles from hence (not all vnworthy note)

At Theobalds.


Euen to the very place by death assign'd her,
His breathlesse corps, as hoping there to finde her,
Should be conuei'd; whether at his bequest,
Or that th' inscrutable powers so thought it best,
I'am ignorant; yet this assur'd I am,
She went from Denmarke house, he thither came.
From thence (as in one Temple they were wedded)
So in one place to be together bedded:
But into forraigne Countries I was growne
So farre, that I had nigh forgot mine owne;
As if we had not Country, Court, and Citie,
All to b'included in this mournfull dittie;
Therefore in this grieu'd synod I comprise
The poore, the rich, the ignorant, the wise,
The Noble, base, the Citizen, the Swaine,
Who all (and all at once) his losse complaine.
But were their griefes like yours, thrice Noble Sir,
In whose more sad view, this sad character
I giue to safe protection, it would moue
Marble or Adamant, or what's aboue


These in relentlesse hardnesse, Corsicke stone,
Flint, Iron, Copper, Steele, or that which none
Can paralell in's kinde, and nothing but
It selfe can worke to beauty, mould, or cut,
The Diamond, could it partake your passion,
'Twere possible euer that to frame and fashion
Iust as the fire doth wax; nay, which is more,
Euen drop it into Teares: you did adore
His state and maiestie, for by his grace,
You stood before him in high eminent place.
But loth at this sad season should I be,
To put you (honour'd Sir) in memory
Too much of that, of which so much your brest
Is to your more infirmity possest.
Our generall comfore is, he's but translated
From earth to heauen, where he is now instated.
His peacefull soule hath giuen his foes the foyle,
Death wher's thy sting, & Hell wher's now thy spoyle?
What should I now, hauing the greatest past,
Dwell on the lesser? they may weepe as fast,
Though not so fully, for the greater farre
The persons be, the greater their griefes are:
Pause then a while, his funerals to deplore,
Some other (that can better) praise him more.


A short Consolatory Elegie, alluding to the happy and blest succession, of the hopefull and most Royall Charles the first King of England stiled by that name.

Svnshines succeed blacke tempests, calmes a storme;
The Heauens that in themselues haue vniforme,
Mix cares with pleasures, ioyes with discontent,
As if (to moralise) they thus much ment,
Presume on nothing; Things incertaine are,
Nor (in thy most deiectednesse) despaire.
Long tedious fasts in men consumptions breed,
Continuall surfets make vs loath to feede:
That we may both disgest with more facility,
They haue ordain'd the Lady Mutability
To soueraignize on earth, as meerely sent
To tell vs that there's nothing permanent.
Sicknesse attends on health, a fall on pride;
Againe, there is no ebbe but hath a tyde.
All this th' inconstant Moone can teach vs plaine,
Growing to th' Full, declining in her waine:
The heart of man doth still affect varietie,
And yet in nothing can it finde satietie;
There's emptinesse, and fulnesse; Flux, and wast;
Yet (Man) in neither thou assurance hast;
Rest followes labour, Day succeedeth Night,
And now my blacke page I will change to white.


The Kingly, Prophet; who the Psalmes compil'd,
Left vs a pres'dent, mourning for his child,
Who whilst the infant on his death-bed lay,
Was groueling on the earth, did fast and pray;
But after seuen daies, when he saw hope past,
That his (so much belou'd) had breath'd his last,
He that had all that time abstain'd from meat,
From his teare-watred couch, arose and eat:
Being ask the reason, the wise King replide,
I had some hope of mercy, till it dyde,
By prayer and fast his weaknesse to restore,
But now in vaine I should lament him more.
By humane power, I neuer heard or read
Sackcloth and ashes could reuiue the dead;
But as Hee instantly perswaded sorrow
From all such eyes as tears from his did borrow;
So our Kings obsequies perform'd and done,
Cast eyes of ioyes on his successiue sonne.
The bitter sadnesse I before pursude,
Thus with the tragicke Poet I conclude;
—Tibi crescit omne,

Senec. in Herc. furent.

Et quod occasus videt & quod ortus,

Parce venturis, Tibi Mors paramus
Sis licet segnis properamus ipsi
Prima qua vitam dedit Hora carpsit.


An Acrosticke vpon the most happy Inauguration of Carolvs Iacobvs Stvartvs our dread Lord and Soueraigne.

C harles Iames succeeds King Iames in his true Right,
I n Maiestie, Globe, Scepter, Sword, and Crowne.
A Royall Sonne, to giue great Kingdomes light,
A fter his Fathers set, and going downe;
R adiant and shooting farre, may his beames flye,
C ompassing Lands where Britain's name's scarce heard;
O uer all ciuill States, remote, or nye;
O uer all Seas may his great power be fear'd:
L ong may his growing glories'mongst vs last,
B lest with a fortunate Nestorian Reigne.
V ertue; in which his Father all surpast,
V nchang'd a Legacie with him remaine.
S hould I all panegyries put in one,
S uch as of th' ancient Heroes haue beene writ,
S ure it might be conferd on him alone;
T ruth tels me he so truely merits it;
V aliditie of body, Heauen long send him,
A rmour of proofe, protect him from Inuasion.
R eligion, zeale, and pietie defend him,
T o guard and guide him vpon blest occasion.
V nto my King I dedicate this Oad,
S ince in his brest all vertues haue aboad.
FINIS.