Bosworth-field With a Taste of the Variety of Other Poems, Left by Sir John Beaumont ... Set Forth by his Sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont |
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A Panegyrick at the Coronation of our Soueraigne Lord King Charles.
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117
A Panegyrick at the Coronation of our Soueraigne Lord King Charles.
Aurora
come: why should thine enuious stay
Deferre the ioyes of this expected day?
VVill not thy master let his horses runne,
Because he feares to meete another Sunne?
Or hath our Northerne Starre so dimm'd thine eyes,
Thou knowst not where (at East or VVest) to rise?
Make haste, for if thou shalt denie thy light;
His glitt'ring Crowne will driue away the night.
Debarre not curious Phœbus, who desires
To guild all glorious obiects with his fires.
And could his beames lay open peoples harts,
As well as he can view their outward parts;
He heere should find a triumph, such as he
Hath neuer seene, perhaps shall neuer see.
Deferre the ioyes of this expected day?
VVill not thy master let his horses runne,
Because he feares to meete another Sunne?
Or hath our Northerne Starre so dimm'd thine eyes,
Thou knowst not where (at East or VVest) to rise?
Make haste, for if thou shalt denie thy light;
His glitt'ring Crowne will driue away the night.
Debarre not curious Phœbus, who desires
To guild all glorious obiects with his fires.
And could his beames lay open peoples harts,
As well as he can view their outward parts;
He heere should find a triumph, such as he
Hath neuer seene, perhaps shall neuer see.
Shine forth great Charles, accept our loyall words,
Throw frō your pleasing eies those conqu'ring swords,
That when vpon your Name our voyces call,
The Birds may feele our thund'ring noise, and fall:
Soft Ayre rebounding in a circled ring,
Shall to the Gates of Heau'n our wishes bring:
For vowes, which with so strong affection flie
From many lips, will doubtlesse pierce the skie:
And God (who knowes the secrets of our minds,
When in our brests he these two vertues finds,
Sincerity and Concord, ioyn'd in pray'r
For him, whom Nature made vndoubted Heyre
Of three faire Kingdoms) will his Angels send
With blessings from his Throne this pompe t'attend
Faire Citty, Englands Gemme, the Queene of Trade,
By sad infection lately desart made:
Cast off thy mourning robes, forget thy teares,
Thy cleare and healthfull iupiter appeares:
Pale Death, who had thy silent streets possest,
And some foule dampe, or angry Planet prest
To work his rage, now from th' Almighties will
Receiues command to hold his Iauelin still.
But since my Muse pretends to tune a song
Fit for this day, and fit t'inspire this throng;
Whence shall I kindle such immortall fires?
From Ioyes or Hopes, from Prayses or Desires?
To prayse him, would require an endlesse wheele;
Yet nothing told but what we see and feele.
A thousand tongues for him all gifts intreate
In which Felicity may claime her seate:
Large Honour, happy Conquest, boundlesse Wealth,
Long Life, sweete Children, vnafflicted Health:
But chiefely, we esteeme that precious thing
(Of which already we behold the Spring)
Directing Wisdome; and we now presage
How high that vertue will ascend in age.
In him, our certaine confidence vnites
All former worthy Princes spreading lights;
And addes his glorious Father to the summe:
From ancient times no greater Name can come.
Our hopefull King thus to his Subiects shines,
And reades in faithfull hearts these zealous lines;
This is our Countries Father, this is Hee
In whome we liue, and could not liue so free,
Were we not vnder him; his watchfull care
Preuents our dangers: how shall we declare
Our thankfull minds, but by the humble gift
Of firme obedience, which to him we lift?
As he is Gods true Image choicely wrought,
And for our ioy to these Dominions brought:
So must we imitate celestiall bands,
Which grudge not to performe diuine commands.
His brest transparent like a liquid flood,
Discouers his aduice for publike good:
But if we iudge it by deceiuing fame,
Like Semele, we thinke Ioues piercing flame
No more, then common fire in ashes nurst,
Till formelesse fancies in their errors burst.
Shall we discusse his counsels? We are blest
Who know our blisse, and in his iudgement rest.
Throw frō your pleasing eies those conqu'ring swords,
That when vpon your Name our voyces call,
The Birds may feele our thund'ring noise, and fall:
Soft Ayre rebounding in a circled ring,
Shall to the Gates of Heau'n our wishes bring:
118
From many lips, will doubtlesse pierce the skie:
And God (who knowes the secrets of our minds,
When in our brests he these two vertues finds,
Sincerity and Concord, ioyn'd in pray'r
For him, whom Nature made vndoubted Heyre
Of three faire Kingdoms) will his Angels send
With blessings from his Throne this pompe t'attend
Faire Citty, Englands Gemme, the Queene of Trade,
By sad infection lately desart made:
Cast off thy mourning robes, forget thy teares,
Thy cleare and healthfull iupiter appeares:
Pale Death, who had thy silent streets possest,
And some foule dampe, or angry Planet prest
To work his rage, now from th' Almighties will
Receiues command to hold his Iauelin still.
But since my Muse pretends to tune a song
Fit for this day, and fit t'inspire this throng;
Whence shall I kindle such immortall fires?
From Ioyes or Hopes, from Prayses or Desires?
To prayse him, would require an endlesse wheele;
Yet nothing told but what we see and feele.
A thousand tongues for him all gifts intreate
In which Felicity may claime her seate:
Large Honour, happy Conquest, boundlesse Wealth,
Long Life, sweete Children, vnafflicted Health:
But chiefely, we esteeme that precious thing
(Of which already we behold the Spring)
119
How high that vertue will ascend in age.
In him, our certaine confidence vnites
All former worthy Princes spreading lights;
And addes his glorious Father to the summe:
From ancient times no greater Name can come.
Our hopefull King thus to his Subiects shines,
And reades in faithfull hearts these zealous lines;
This is our Countries Father, this is Hee
In whome we liue, and could not liue so free,
Were we not vnder him; his watchfull care
Preuents our dangers: how shall we declare
Our thankfull minds, but by the humble gift
Of firme obedience, which to him we lift?
As he is Gods true Image choicely wrought,
And for our ioy to these Dominions brought:
So must we imitate celestiall bands,
Which grudge not to performe diuine commands.
His brest transparent like a liquid flood,
Discouers his aduice for publike good:
But if we iudge it by deceiuing fame,
Like Semele, we thinke Ioues piercing flame
No more, then common fire in ashes nurst,
Till formelesse fancies in their errors burst.
Shall we discusse his counsels? We are blest
Who know our blisse, and in his iudgement rest.
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