Classic Poem

May his pretty Duke-ship grow
Like t'a Rose of Jericho:
Sweeter far, then ever yet
Showrs or Sun-shines co'd beget.
May the Graces, and the Howers
Strew his hopes, and Him with flowers:
And so dresse him up with Love,
As to be the Chick of Jove.
May the thrice-three-Sisters sing
Him the Soveraigne of their Spring:
And entitle none to be
Prince of Hellicon, but He.
May his soft foot, where it treads,
Gardens thence produce and Meads:
And those Meddowes full be set
With the Rose, and Violet.
May his ample Name be knowne
To the last succession:
And his actions high be told
Through the world, but writ in gold.