Rouse up thy self, my gentle Muse,
Though now our green conceits be gray,
And yet once more do not refuse
To take thy Phrygian Harp, and play
In honour of this chearful Day.
Make first a Song of Joy and Love,
Which chastely flame in Royal Eyes;
Then tune it to the Spheres above
When the benignest Stars do rise,
And sweet Conjunctions grace the Skies.
To this let all good Hearts resound,
While Diadems invest his Head:
Long may he live, whose Life doth bound
More then his Laws, and better Lead
By high Example, then by Dread.
Long may He round about Him see
His Roses and His Lillies bloom:
Long may His only Dear and He
Joy in Ideas of their own,
And Kingdoms Hopes so timely sown;
Long may they both contend to prove,
That best of Crowns is such a Love.
