 | Brittannia's Honor |  |
The Last Presentation is called the Sun's Bower.
The vpper part of this, is adorned with seuerall Flowers, which interwouen together, dresse vp a comely Greene Arbor, in which the Sunne sits, with golden Beames about his Face;
See, for all some Beasts are fell,
There's one, that can their curstnesse quell.
Sol
is the Speaker.
Heauens
bright Orientall Gates I op'd this Morne,
And Hither wheeld my Chariot to adorne
These splendors with my Beames: nere did the Sun
In his Cælestiall Circle faster runne
Than Now, to see these Sightes: O how I ioy
To view a Kingdome, and a New-built Troy
So flourishing so full, so faire, so deare
To th'Gods: they leaue Ioue's Court to reuell here.
And Hither wheeld my Chariot to adorne
These splendors with my Beames: nere did the Sun
In his Cælestiall Circle faster runne
Than Now, to see these Sightes: O how I ioy
To view a Kingdome, and a New-built Troy
So flourishing so full, so faire, so deare
To th'Gods: they leaue Ioue's Court to reuell here.
All o're the VVorld, I trauell in one Day,
Yet oft am forc'd to leaue my beaten way,
Frighted with Vproares, Battailes, Massacres,
Famines, and all that Hellish brood of Warres:
Yet oft am forc'd to leaue my beaten way,
Frighted with Vproares, Battailes, Massacres,
Famines, and all that Hellish brood of Warres:
I meete no Peace but here. O blessed Land!
That seest fires kindling round, and yet canst stand
Vnburnt for all their flames; O Nation blest!
VVhen all thy Neighbours shrike, none wound thy brest.
That seest fires kindling round, and yet canst stand
Vnburnt for all their flames; O Nation blest!
VVhen all thy Neighbours shrike, none wound thy brest.
To Crowne these ioyes, with me are come along,
The foure Lords of the yeare, who by a strong
Knit Charme, bring in this goodly Russian prize,
As earnest of a more rich Merchandize:
Halfe of our Race, Time, and my Houres haue runne,
Nor shall they giue o're till the Goale be wonne.
Knit Charme, bring in this goodly Russian prize,
As earnest of a more rich Merchandize:
Halfe of our Race, Time, and my Houres haue runne,
Nor shall they giue o're till the Goale be wonne.
The Sunne at Night being couered with a vaile of Darknesse: The Person, representing London, thus takes leaue.
The Sunne is mantled in thicke Clouds of Blacke,
And by his hidden Beames, threatens the wracke
Of all these Glories: Euery pleasure dyes
VVhen Rauen-winged Night, from her Caue flyes;
None but these Artificiall Starres keepe fire
To Light you Home, these burne with a desire
To lengthen your braue Triumphes; but their heate
Must coole, and dye at length, tho ne're so Great.
Peace therefore guide you on: Rest, charme your eyes,
And Honors waite to cheere you when you Rise.
[Inuentor.]
Let it be no Ostentation in Me the Inuentor, to speak thus
much in praise of the workes, that for many yeares, none
haue beene able to Match them for curiosity: They are not
Vast, but Neate, and Comprehend as much Arte for Architecture,
as can be bestowed vpon such little Bodies. The commendations
of which must liue vppon Mr. Gerard Chrismas
the Father, and Mr. Iohn Chrismas the Sonne.
| Brittannia's Honor | |