Classic Poem

Triumph now with Joy and mirth;
The God of peace hath blest our land:
Wee enjoy the fruites of earth
Through favour of his bounteous hand.
We throgh his most loving grace
A King and kingly seed beholde,
Like a son with lesser stars,
Or carefull shepheard to his fold:
Triumph then, and yeelde him praise
That gives us blest and joyfull dayes.