Madame
It was not want of zeal, but want of sight,
That I did neither come, nor speak nor write,
To testify my joys, my hopes, and fears,
And to assure the king of my poor prairs,
If not in words, at least in silent tears
My eys bound doun, I heard the peopl say,
The King, the King's for England gone away.
Such joys and fears, did then my heart o'erflow,
As saints shall at the resurection know.
This glimps of heaven, god gives in recompence
Oth' deprivation of my seeing sence.
Such vast distractions, all your subjects have
Compar'd to which the Bachanals were grave
Our minds strike up, our hearts dance in this ball
And Heav'n too seems to keep its carnival.
Nature methinks, is dress'd in masquerade,
As if in frolick England she'd invade.
The sun in greatest splendor does appear
Three months before the usuial time oth'year.
The earth is mantl'd in her verdant dress,
So soon, one must conclude by Heav'n express,
This cloth of s[t]ate is layd for Royal James,
To walk upon towards his silver Thames,
The leaves peep out, to see the King go by
Whilst birds huzza him with their warbling cry,
And little insects hum, vivez le Roy
All things conspire, his foot steps to advance
Whilst gentle windes are pipers to the dance.
nor heav'n nor earth can better musick hear,
Except yr Majestys all powerful praier,
Such vows and praiers as yours, take Heav'n by force
And stop and turn even nature in her course
The sun was once commanded to go back
But now is bid go forward for your sake
'Tis for your sake the elements have fought,
And on the statlyest fleets destruction brought,
'Tis for your sake the armes of france are bless'd,
And for your sake the Rebells are depress'd,
'Tis for your sake, god made France be our friend,
And for your sake, he'll peace on Europ send,
Not good to be alone, th' Almighty said,
And forthwith He for man a help-meet made,
Such you have truly been, and such shall be,
Not only to the King but christianity,
In vertues perfect natural and acquir'd,
Less to be immitated than admir'd,
No saint so good, no Heroin so great
No wit so perfect, beauty so compleat,
So good a friend, and mother ne'er was seen,
So good a wife a mistress, and a Queen,
By your warm rays, starv'd vertue shall bud forth,
And Englands eyes, shall open to your worth,
No country so obscure or place so far,
Which shall not of your matchless merits hear,
And those who never heard of god before,
Shall now the god of Englands Queen addore.
It was not want of zeal, but want of sight,
That I did neither come, nor speak nor write,
To testify my joys, my hopes, and fears,
And to assure the king of my poor prairs,
If not in words, at least in silent tears
My eys bound doun, I heard the peopl say,
The King, the King's for England gone away.
Such joys and fears, did then my heart o'erflow,
As saints shall at the resurection know.
This glimps of heaven, god gives in recompence
Oth' deprivation of my seeing sence.
Such vast distractions, all your subjects have
Compar'd to which the Bachanals were grave
Our minds strike up, our hearts dance in this ball
And Heav'n too seems to keep its carnival.
Nature methinks, is dress'd in masquerade,
As if in frolick England she'd invade.
The sun in greatest splendor does appear
Three months before the usuial time oth'year.
The earth is mantl'd in her verdant dress,
So soon, one must conclude by Heav'n express,
This cloth of s[t]ate is layd for Royal James,
To walk upon towards his silver Thames,
The leaves peep out, to see the King go by
Whilst birds huzza him with their warbling cry,
And little insects hum, vivez le Roy
All things conspire, his foot steps to advance
Whilst gentle windes are pipers to the dance.
nor heav'n nor earth can better musick hear,
Except yr Majestys all powerful praier,
Such vows and praiers as yours, take Heav'n by force
And stop and turn even nature in her course
The sun was once commanded to go back
But now is bid go forward for your sake
'Tis for your sake the elements have fought,
And on the statlyest fleets destruction brought,
'Tis for your sake the armes of france are bless'd,
And for your sake the Rebells are depress'd,
'Tis for your sake, god made France be our friend,
And for your sake, he'll peace on Europ send,
Not good to be alone, th' Almighty said,
And forthwith He for man a help-meet made,
Such you have truly been, and such shall be,
Not only to the King but christianity,
In vertues perfect natural and acquir'd,
Less to be immitated than admir'd,
No saint so good, no Heroin so great
No wit so perfect, beauty so compleat,
So good a friend, and mother ne'er was seen,
So good a wife a mistress, and a Queen,
By your warm rays, starv'd vertue shall bud forth,
And Englands eyes, shall open to your worth,
No country so obscure or place so far,
Which shall not of your matchless merits hear,
And those who never heard of god before,
Shall now the god of Englands Queen addore.