  Of AstrÆa. E arly, before the day doth spring, L et us awake, my Muse! and sing! I t is no time to slumber! S o many joys this Time doth bring, A s time will fail to number. B ut, whereto shall we bend our Lays? E ven up to heaven, again to raise T he Maid! which, thence descended, H ath brought again the Golden Days A nd all the world amended. R udeness itself, She doth refine! E ven like an Alchemist divine, G ross Times of Iron turning I nto the purest form of Gold; N ot to corrupt, till heaven wax old A nd be refined with burning. HYMN II.To AstrÆa. E ternal Virgin! Goddess true! L et me presume to sing to you! I ove, even great Jove hath leisure S ometimes, to hear the vulgar crew, A nd hears them, oft, with pleasure. B lessed AstrÆ! I, in part, E njoy the blessings you impart! T he Peace! the milk and honey! H umanity! and civil Art! A richer dower than money. R ight glad am I, that now I live, E ven in these days, whereto you give G reat happiness and glory! I f after you, I should be born; N o doubt, I should my birthday scorn, A dmiring your sweet Story. HYMN III.To the Spring. E arth now is green, and heaven is blue! L ively Spring, which makes all new. I olly Spring doth enter. S weet young sunbeams do subdue A ngry, agÈd Winter. B lasts are mild, and seas are calm! E very meadow flows with balm! T he earth wears all her riches! H armonious birds sing such a psalm A s ear and heart bewitches! R eserve, sweet Spring! this Nymph of ours, E ternal garlands of thy flowers! G reen garlands never wasting! I n her shall last our State's fair Spring, N ow and for ever flourishing, A s long as heaven is lasting. HYMN IV.To the month of May. E ach day of thine, sweet month of May! L ove makes a solemn Holy Day. I will perform like duty! S ince thou resemblest, every way, A strÆa, Queen of Beauty. B oth you, fresh beauties do partake! E ither's aspect, doth Summer make, T houghts of young Love awaking! H earts you both, do cause to ache; A nd yet be pleased with aching. R ight dear art thou! and so is She! E ven like attractive sympathy G ains unto both, like dearness. I ween this made Antiquity N ame thee, Sweet May of Majesty! A s being both like in clearness. HYMN V.To the Lark. E arly, cheerful, mounting Lark! L ight's gentle Usher! Morning's Clerk! I n merry notes delighting; S tint awhile thy song, and hark, A nd learn my new inditing! B ear up this Hymn! to heaven, it bear! E ven up to heaven, and sing it there! T o heaven, each morning bear it! H ave it set to some sweet sphere, A nd let the angels hear it! R enowned AstrÆa, that great name! (E xceeding great in worth and fame, G reat worth hath so renowned it) I t is AstrÆa's name, I praise! N ow then, sweet Lark! do thou it raise; A nd in high heaven resound it! HYMN VI.To the Nightingale. E very night, from even till morn, L ove's Chorister amid the thorn, I s now so sweet a singer! S o sweet, as for her Song, I scorn A pollo's voice and finger. B ut, Nightingale! sith you delight E ver to watch the starry night, T ell all the stars of heaven! H eaven never had a star so bright A s now to earth is given! R oyal AstrÆa makes our day E ternal, with her beams! nor may G ross darkness overcome her! I now perceive, why some do write, "N o country hath so short a night A s England hath in summer." HYMN VII.To the Rose. E ye of the garden! Queen of Flowers! L ove's cup, wherein he nectar pours! I ngendered first of nectar. S weet nurse-child of the Spring's young Hours! A nd Beauty's fair Character! B est jewel that the earth doth wear! E ven when the brave young sun draws near, T o her hot love pretending; H imself likewise, like form doth bear, A t rising and descending. R ose, of the Queen of Love beloved! E ngland's great Kings (divinely moved) G ave Roses in their banner: I t shewed, that Beauty's Rose indeed, N ow in this Age should them succeed, A nd reign in more sweet manner. HYMN VIII.To all the Princes of Europe. E urope! the Earth's sweet Paradise! L et all thy Kings (that would be wise I n Politic Devotion) S ail hither, to observe her eyes, A nd mark her heavenly motion! B rave Princes of this civil Age! E nter into this pilgrimage! T his Saint's tongue is an Oracle! H er eye hath made a Prince a page; A nd works, each day, a miracle! R aise but your looks to her, and see E ven the true beams of Majesty! G reat Princes, mark her duly! I f all the world you do survey, N o forehead spreads so bright a ray; A nd notes a Prince, so truly! HYMN IX.To Flora. E mpress of Flowers! Tell, where away L ies your sweet Court, this merry May? I n Greenwich garden alleys! S ince there the Heavenly Powers do play, A nd haunt no other valleys. B eauty, Virtue, Majesty, E loquent Muses, three times three, T he new fresh Hours and Graces H ave pleasure in this place to be, A bove all other places. R oses and lilies did them draw, E re they, divine AstrÆa saw: G ay flowers, they sought for pleasure. I nstead of gathering Crowns of Flowers, N ow, gather they AstrÆa's dowers, A nd bear to heaven, that treasure. HYMN X.To the Month of September. E ach month hath praise in some degree, L et May to others seem to be I n Sense, the sweetest season; S eptember! thou are best to me! A nd best doth please my Reason. B ut neither for their corn, nor wine; E xtol I, those mild days of thine! T hough corn and wine might praise thee; H eaven gives thee honour more divine A nd higher fortunes raise thee! R enowned art thou, sweet Month! for this. E mong thy days, her birthday is! G race, Plenty, Peace, and Honour I n one fair hour with her were born! N ow since, they still her crown adorn, A nd still attend upon her. HYMN XI.To the Sun. E ye of the world! Fountain of light! L ife of day, and death of night! I humbly seek thy kindness! S weet! dazzle not my feeble sight, A nd strike me not with blindness! B ehold me mildly from that face E ven where thou now dost run thy race, T he sphere where now thou turnest, H aving, like PhÆton changed thy place, A nd yet hearts only burnest. R ed in her right cheek, thou dost rise E xalted after, in her eyes; G reat glory, there, thou shewest! I n th'other cheek, when thou descendest, N ew redness unto it thou lendest! A nd so thy Round, thou goest! HYMN XII.To her Picture. E xtreme was his audacity, L ittle his skill, that finished thee! I am ashamed and sorry, S o dull her counterfeit should be; A nd She, so full of glory! B ut here are colours, red and white; E ach line, and each proportion right: T hese lines, this red and whiteness, H ave wanting yet a life and light, A majesty and brightness. R ude counterfeit! I then did err; E ven now, when I would needs infer G reat boldness in thy maker! I did mistake! He was not bold, N or durst his eyes, her eyes behold: A nd this made him mistake her. HYMN XIII.Of her Mind. E arth, now adieu! My ravished thought L ifted to heaven, sets thee at nought! I nfinite is my longing, S ecrets of angels to be taught, A nd things to heaven belonging! B rought down from heaven, of angels' kind, E ven now, do I admire her Mind! T his is my contemplation! H er clear sweet Spirit, which is refined A bove humane creation! R ich sunbeam of th' Eternal Light! E xcellent Soul! How shall I write? G ood angels make me able! I cannot see but by your eye; N or but by your tongue, signify A thing so admirable. HYMN XIV.Of the Sunbeams of her Mind. E xceeding glorious is this Star! L et us behold her beams afar I n a side line reflected! S ight bears them not, when near they are A nd in right lines directed. B ehold her in her virtue's beams, E xtending sun-like to all realms! T he sun none views too nearly. H er well of goodness, in these streams, A ppears right well and clearly. R adiant virtues! if your light E nfeeble the best judgement's sight; G reat splendour above measure I s in the Mind, from whence you flow! N o wit may have access to know A nd view so bright a treasure. HYMN XV.Of her Wit. E ye of that Mind most quick and clear, L ike heaven's Eye, which from his sphere, I nto all things pryeth; S ees through all things everywhere, A nd all their natures trieth. B right image of an angel's wit, E xceeding sharp and swift like it, T hings instantly discerning; H aving a nature infinite, A nd yet increased by learning. R ebound upon thyself thy light! E njoy thine own sweet precious sight! G ive us but some reflection! I t is enough for us if we, N ow in her speech, now policy; A dmire thine high perfection! HYMN XVI.Of her Will. E ver well affected Will, L oving goodness, loathing ill! I nestimable treasure! S ince such a power hath power to spill, A nd save us, at her pleasure. B e thou our law, sweet Will! and say E ven what thou wilt, we will obey! T his law, if I could read it. H erein would I spend night and day, A nd study still to plead it. R oyal Free Will, and only free! E ach other will is slave to thee! G lad is each will to serve thee! I n thee such princely power is seen; N o spirit but takes thee, for her Queen! A nd thinks she must observe thee! HYMN XVII.Of her Memory. E xcellent jewels would you see? L ovely ladies! Come with me! I will (for love I owe you) S hew you as rich a treasury A s East or West can shew you! B ehold! (if you can judge of it) E ven that great Storehouse of her Wit! T hat beautiful large table, H er Memory! wherein is writ A ll knowledge admirable. R ead this fair book, and you shall learn E xquisite skill, if you discern; G ain heaven, by this discerning! I n such a memory divine, N ature did form the Muses nine, A nd Pallas, Queen of Learning. HYMN XVIII.Of her Phantasy. E xquisite curiosity! L ook on thyself, with judging eye! I f ought be faulty, leave it! S o delicate a Phantasy A s this, will straight perceive it B ecause her temper is so fine, E ndued with harmonies divine; T herefore if discord strike it, H er true proportions do repine, A nd sadly do mislike it. R ight otherwise, a pleasure sweet, E ver she takes in actions meet, G racing with smiles such meetness: I n her fair forehead beams appear, N o Summer's day is half so clear! A dorned with half that sweetness! HYMN XIX.Of the Organs of her Mind. E clipsed She is, and her bright rays L ie under veils; yet many ways I s her fair form revealed! S he diversely herself conveys, A nd cannot be concealed. B y instruments, her powers appear E xceedingly well tuned and clear! T his Lute is still in measure, H olds still in tune, even like a sphere, A nd yields the world sweet pleasure! R esolve me, Muse! how this thing is? E ver a body like to this, G ave heaven to earthly creature? I am but fond this doubt to make! N o doubt, the angels, bodies take A bove our common nature! HYMN XX.Of the Passions of her Heart. E xamine not th' inscrutable Heart, L ight Muse! of Her, though She in part I mpart it to the subject! S earch not! although from heaven thou art! A nd this a heavenly object. B ut since She hath a heart, we know E ver some Passions thence do flow, T hough ever ruled with honour. H er judgement reigns! They wait below, A nd fix their eyes upon her! R ectified so, they, in their kind, E ncrease each virtue of her Mind, G overned with mild tranquility. I n all the regions under heaven, N o State doth bear itself so even, A nd with so sweet facility. HYMN XXI.Of the innumerable Virtues of her Mind. E re thou proceed in these sweet pains, L earn Muse! how many drops it rains I n cold and moist December! S um up May flowers! and August's grains! A nd grapes of mild September! B ear the sea's sand in Memory! E arth's grasses! and the stars in sky! T he little moats, which mounted H ang in the beams of Phoebus' eye, A nd never can be counted! R ecount these numbers, numberless, E re thou, her virtue canst express! G reat wits, this count will cumber! I nstruct thyself in numbering schools! N ow Courtiers use to beg for fools; A ll such as cannot number. HYMN XXII.Of her Wisdom. E agle-eyed Wisdom! Life's loadstar! L ooking near, on things afar! I ove's best beloved daughter! S hews to her spirit all that are! A s Jove himself hath taught her. B y this straight rule, She rectifies E ach thought, that in her heart doth rise; T his is her clear true Mirror! H er Looking Glass, wherein She spies A ll forms of Truth and Error. R ight Princely virtue, fit to reign! E nthronised in her spirit remain, G uiding our fortunes ever! I f we this Star once cease to see; N o doubt our State will shipwrecked be, A nd torn and sunk for ever. HYMN XXIII.Of her Justice. E xiled AstrÆa is come again! L o here She doth all things maintain I n number, weight, and measure! S he rules us, with delightful pain, A nd we obey with pleasure! B y Love, She rules more than by Law! E ven her great Mercy breedeth awe; T his is her sword and sceptre! H erewith She hearts did ever draw, A nd this guard ever kept her. R eward doth sit in her right hand! E ach Virtue, thence takes her garland, G athered in Honour's garden! I n her left hand (wherein should be N ought but the sword) sits Clemency! A nd conquers Vice with pardon. HYMN XXIV.Of her Magnanimity. E ven as her State, so is her Mind L ifted above the vulgar kind! I t treads proud Fortune under! S unlike, it sits above the wind; A bove the storms, and thunder. B rave Spirit! Large Heart! admiring nought! E steeming each thing, as it ought! T hat swelleth not, nor shrinketh! H onour is always in her thought; A nd of great things, She thinketh! R ocks, pillars, and heaven's axletree E xemplify her Constancy! G reat changes never change her! I n her sex, fears are wont to rise; N ature permits, Virtue denies, A nd scorns the face of danger! HYMN XXV.Of her Moderation. E mpress of Kingdoms, though She be; L arger is her Sovereignty, I f She herself do govern! S ubject unto herself is She; A nd of herself, true Sovereign! B eauty's Crown, though She do wear; E xalted into Fortune's Chair; T hroned like the Queen of Pleasure: H er virtues still possess her ear, A nd counsel her to Measure! R eason (if She incarnate were) E ven Reason's self could never bear G reatness with Moderation! I n her, one temper still is seen. N o liberty claims She as Queen! A nd shows no alteration! HYMN XXVI.E nvy, go weep! My Muse and I L augh thee to scorn! Thy feeble eye I s dazzled with the glory S hining in this gay Poesy, A nd little golden Story! B ehold, how my proud quill doth shed E ternal nectar on her head! T he pomp of Coronation H ath not such power, her fame to spread, A s this my admiration! R espect my pen, as free and frank; E xpecting nor reward, nor thank! G reat wonder only moves it! I never made it mercenary! N or should my Muse, this burden carry A s hired; but that she loves it! FINIS. |
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