 | The Royall Master |  |
THE EPILOGVE.
As it vvas spoken to the Lord Deputie on Newyeares-day at night, by way of vote, congratulating the New yeare.
Ovr
Poet doth forget his Play;
There is something he would pay
Due to your greatnesse, and the day
Which by a revolution of the spheare
Is proud to open the New yeare.
And having look'd on you, hath hid his face,
And Chang'd his robe with Starres to grace
And light you going to bed, so waite
With trembling Lustre on your state.
There is something he would pay
Due to your greatnesse, and the day
Which by a revolution of the spheare
Is proud to open the New yeare.
And having look'd on you, hath hid his face,
And Chang'd his robe with Starres to grace
And light you going to bed, so waite
With trembling Lustre on your state.
Shine brighter yet, y'are not the same
Cleare Lampes you were shine like the name
Of him I bow too, while a'flame
Active, and burning here with pure desires
Shall equall the best borrowed fires.
May health, the bosomes friend, streame through your blood,
And know no ebbe of the chast flood,
And though time shift, and yeares renew,
May yet the Spring be still in you.
Cleare Lampes you were shine like the name
Of him I bow too, while a'flame
Active, and burning here with pure desires
Shall equall the best borrowed fires.
May health, the bosomes friend, streame through your blood,
And know no ebbe of the chast flood,
And though time shift, and yeares 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 yours embrac'd,
Hath made one true, and holy Gordian, prove
Fruitfull in Children, as in love.
And may this faire Top-branch, whose early bloome
Doth promise all the fruit can come
To vertue, and your name be blest,
And live a story to the rest.
And in your noble bosome plac'd,
Whose heart by onely yours embrac'd,
Hath made one true, and holy Gordian, prove
Fruitfull in Children, as in love.
And may this faire Top-branch, whose early bloome
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 fame increase,
In your bosome dwell soft peace,
And Iustice, the true roote of these;
Wealth be the worst, and outside of your fate;
And may not heaven your life translate,
Till for your Royall Master, and this Ile,
Your deeds have fild a Chronicle;
In all thats great, and good, be bold,
And every yeare be coppie of the old.
In your bosome dwell soft peace,
And Iustice, the true roote of these;
Wealth be the worst, and outside of your fate;
And may not heaven your life translate,
Till for your Royall Master, and this Ile,
Your deeds have fild a Chronicle;
In all thats great, and good, be bold,
And every yeare be coppie of the old.
FINIS.
| The Royall Master | |