HYMN VIII.

TO ALL THE PRINCES OF EUROPL.

E UROPE, the Earth's sweet paradise:
L et all thy kings that would be wise,
In politic devotion,
Sail hither to observe her eyes,
A nd mark her heav'nly motion.

HYMN V.

TO THE LARK. E ARLY cheerful mounting lark, Light's gentle usher, morning's clark, I a merry notes delighting : Stiot awhile thy song, and hark, A od learn my new inditing. Bear up this hymn, to Heav'n it bear, E’en op to Heav'n, and sing it there, To Hear'n each morning bear it; Have it set to some sweet spbere, And let the angels hear it. Renown'd Astrea, that great name, Exceeding great in worth and fame, Great forth bath so renown'd it, It is Astrea's name I praise, Now then, sweet lark, do thou it raise, And in high Heaven resound it.

B rave princess of this civil age,
E nter into this pilgrimage:
T his saint's tongue's an oracle,
Her eye hath made a prince a page,
A nd works each day a miracle.
Raise but your looks to her, and see
E'en the true beams of majesty,
Great princes, mark her duly;
If all the world you do survey,
No forehead spreads so bright a ray,
A nd notes a prince so truly.

HYMN IX.

TO FLORA.

E MPRESS of Aow'rs, tell where away
L jes your sweet court this May,
In Greenwich garden alleys:
Since there the heav'nly pow'rs do play
A nd haunt no other valleys.

HYMN VI:

TO THE NIGHTINGALE. Er'ay night from ev'n to morn, Love's chorister amid the thorn I s now so sweet a singer, So sweet, as for her song I scora A pollo's voice and finger. Bat nightingale, sith you delight E ver to watch the starry night, Tell all the stars of Heaven, Heaven never had a star so bright, AS DO# to Earth is given. Royal Astrea makes our day I. ternal with her beams, nor may Gruss darkness overcome her; ID# perceive why some do write, No country bath so sbort a night, Ås England bath in summer.

B eauty, Virtue, Majesty,
E loquent Muses, three times three,
The new fresh Hours, and Graces,
Have pleasure in this place to be,
A bove all other places.
Roses and lilies did them draw,
E re they divine Astrea saw,
Gay flow'rs they sought for pleasure :
I nstead of gath’ring crowns of flow'rs,
Now gather they Astrea's dowers,
A nd bear to Heav'n that treasure.

HYMN X

TO THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER. Each month hath praise in some degree; L et May to others seem to be In sense the sweetest season ; September thou art best to me, And best doth please my reason.

HYMN VII,

TO THE ROSE. E ne of the garden, queen of flow'rs Late's cup wherein lie nectar's pow'rs, 1 ugender'd first of nectar: S reet norse-child of the spring's young hours, And beauty's fair character. Bles'd jewel that the Earth doth wear, L'en when the brave young Sun draws near, Te ber hot love pretending; Hinself likewise like form doth bear, Airising and descending. Rsse of the queen of love belov'd; England's great kings divinely, movid, Gare roses in their banner; It show'd that beauty's rose indeed, Now in this age should them succeed, A od reign in more sweet manner

B ut neither for thy corn nor wine
Extol I those mild days of thine,
Though corn and wine might praise thee,
Heav'n gives thee honour more divine,
A nd higher fortunes raise thee.
Renown'd art thou (sweet month) for this,
E mong thy days her birth-day is,
G race, Plenty, Peace, and Honour,
I u onė fair hour with her were born,
Now since they still her crown adoro,
A od still attend upon her.

Eye of that mind most quick and clear,
Like Heaven's eye which from his sphere
I nto all things pryeth,
S ees through all things ev'ry where,
A nd all their natures trieth.

E XTREME was his audacity,
Little his skill that finish'd thee;
I am asham'd and sorry,
So dull her counterfeit should be,
A nd she so full of glory.
B ut here are colours red and white,
Each line and each proportion right;
These lines, this red and whiteness,
Have wanting yet a life and light,
A majesty, and brightness.
R ude counterfeit, I'then did err,
E’en now when I would needs infer
Great boldness in thy maker:
I did mistake, he was not bold,
N or durst his eyes her eyes behold,
And this made him mistake her.

B right image of an angel's wit,
Exceeding sharp and swift like it,
T hings instantly discerning:
Having a nature infinite,
A nd yet increas'd by learning,

Rebound upon thyself thy light,
E njoy thine own sweet precious sight
Give us but some reflection ;
It is enough for us if we,
Now in her speech, now policy,
A dmire thine high perfection.

HYMN XVII.

OF HER MEMORY. E ICELLENT jewels would you see, Lovely ladies come with me, I sill (for love I owe you) Show you as rich a treasury, As east or west can show you. Bebold, if you can judge of it, E r'n tbat great store-house of her wit, T hat beautiful large table; H er memory, wherein is writ All koowledge admirable. Read this fair book, and you shall learn Exquisite skill; if you discern, G ain Heav'n by this discerning; In such a memory divine, Nature did form the Muses nine, And Pallas, queen of learning.

HYMN XX.

OF THE PASSIONS OF HER HEART. E xamine not th' inscrutable heart, Light Muse of her, though she in part Impart it to the subject; Search not, although from Heav'n thon art, A nd this an heav'nly object. B ut since she hath a heart, we know, E re some passions thence do flow, Though ever ruled with honour ; H er judgment reigns, they wait below, A nd fix their eyes upon her. Rectify'd so, they in their kind E ncrease each virtue of her mind, Govern'd with mild tranquillity; In all the regions under Heav'n, N o state doth bear itself so even, A nd with so sweet facility.

HYMN XVIII.

OP HER FANCY.

HYMN XXI. OF THE INNUMERABLE VIRTUES OF HER MIND. E re thou proceed in these sweet pains Learn, Muse, how many drops it rains In cold and moist December; S um up May flow'rs, and August's grains, A nd grapes of mild September.

E XQUISITE curiosity,
Look on thyself with judging eye,
Ifzught be faulty, leave it:
So delicate a fantasy
As this, will straight perceive it.
Because her temper is so foe,
Endow'd with harmonies divine;
T berefore if discord strike it,
Her true proportions do repine,
A nd sadly do mislike it.
Right otherwise a pleasure sweet,
E’er she takes ju actions meet,
G racing with smiles such meetness;
la her fair forehead beams appear,
No summer's day is half so clear,
A dorn'd with half that sweetness.

B ear the sea's sand in memory,
E arth's grass, and the stars in the sky,
The little moats which mounted,
H ang in the beains of Phæbus' eye,
A nd never can be counted.

Recount these numbers numberless,
E re thou her virtue can express,
Great wits this count will cumber.
I nstruct thyself in numb’ring schools;
Now courtiers use to beg for fools,
All such as cannot number,

HYMN XIX.

OF THE ORGANS OF HER MIND. Eclips's she is, and her bright rays Lie under veils, yet many ways Is her fair form revealed ; She diversely herself conveys, And cannot be concealed. By instruments her pow'rs appear Exceedingly well tun'd and clear : This lute is still in measure, Holds still in tune, e'en like a sphere, A nd yields the world sweet pleasure. Resolse me, Muse, how this thing is, E se a body like to this Gave Hear'n to earthly creature ? I am but fond this doubt to make, No doubt the angels bodies take, A bove our common nature.

HYMN XXII.

OF HER WISDOM. E aGlz-ey'd Wisdom, life's load-star, Looking near on things afar; I ove's best belov'd daughter, Shows to her spirit all that are, A s Jove himself bath taught her. By this straight rule she rectifies Each thought that in her heart doth rise: This is her clear true mirror, Her looking-glass, wherein she spies A ll forms of truth and errour. Right princely virtue fit to reign, Enthroniz'd in her spirit remain, Guiding our fortunes ever; If we this star once cease to see, No doubt our state will shipwreck'd be, A ud torn and sunk for ever.