If, in this Storme of joy and pompous Throng,
This Nymphe (great King) come euer Thee so neare
That Thy harmonious Eares Her Accents heare,
Giue Pardon to Her hoarse and lowlie Song.
Faine would Shee Trophees to Thy Vertues reare,
But for this statlie Task Shee is not Strong,
And Her Defects Her high Attempts doe wrong,
Yet as Shee could shee makes Thy VVorth appeare.
So in a Mappe is showen this flowrie Place;
So wrought in Arras by a Virgines Hand
With Heauen and blazing Starres doth Atlas stand,
So drawen by Chare—coale is Narcissus Face:
Shee maye Aurora be to some bright Sunne
Which maye perfect the Day by Her begunne.
What blustring Noise now interrupts my Sleepe?
VVhat echoing Shouts thus cleaue my chrystal Deep?
And call mee hence from out my watrie Court?
VVhat Melodie, what Sounds of Joy and Sport,
Bee these heere hurld from eu’rie neighbour Spring?
VVith what lowd Rumours doe the Mountaines ring?
VVhich in vnusuall Pompe on tip—toes stand,
And (full of VVonder) ouer—looke the Land?
VVhence come these glittring Throngs, these Meteors bright,
This golden People set vnto my Sight?
VVhence doth this Praise, Applause, and Loue, arise?
VVhat Load—starre east—ward draweth thus all Eyes?
Am J awake? or haue some Dreames conspir’d
To mocke my Sense with Shadowes much desir’d?
Stare J that liuing Face, see J those Lookes,
VVhich with Delight wont to amaze my Brookes?
Doe J behold that VVorth, that Man divine,
This Ages Glorie, by these Bankes of mine?
Then is it true what long J wish’d in vaine?
That my much—louing Prince is come againe?
So vnto Them whose Zenith is the Pole,
VVhen sixe blacke Months are past, the Sunne doeth rolle:
So after Tempest to Sea—tossed VVights
Faire Helens Brothers show their chearing Lights:
So comes Arabias Meruaile from her VVoods,
And farre farre off is seene by Memphis Floods,
The feather’d Syluans Clowd—like by her flie,
And with applauding Clangors beate the Skie,
Nyle wonders, Seraps Priests (entranced) raue,
And in Mygdonian Stone her Shape ingraue;
In lasting Cedars marke the joyfull Time
In which Apollos Bird came to their Clime.
Let Mother Earth now deckt with Flowres bee seene,
And sweet—breath’d Zephyres curle the Medowes greene:
Let Heauens weepe Rubies in a crimsin Showre,
Such as on Indies Shores they vse to powre:
Or with that golden Storme the Fields adorne,
Which Ioue rain’d, when his Blew—eyed Maide was borne.
May neuer Houres the Webbe of Day out—weaue,
May neuer Night rise from her sable Caue.
Swell prowd my Billowes, faint not to declare
Your Joyes, as ample as their Causes are:
For Murmures hoarse sound like Arions Harpe,
Now delicatlie flat, now sweetlie sharpe.
And you my Nymphes, rise from your moyst Repaire,
Strow all your Springs and Grotts with Lillies faire:
Some swiftest—footted get her hence and pray
Our Floods and Lakes, come keepe this Holie—day;
What e’re beneath Albanias Hills doe runne,
Which see the rising or the setting Sunne,
Which drinke sterne Grampius Mists, or Ochells Snows:
Stone—rowling Taye, Tine Tortoyse—like that flows,
The pearlie Don, the Deas, the fertile Spay,
Wild Neverne which doth see our longest Day,
Nesse smoaking—Sulphure, Leaue with Mountaines crown’d,
Strange Loumond for his floting Isles renown’d:
The irish Rian, Ken, the silver Aire,
The snakie Dun, the Ore with rushie Haire,
The Chrystall—streaming Nid, lowd—bellowing Clyd,
Tweed which no more our Kingdomes shall deuide:
Rancke—swelling Annan, Lid with curled Streames,
The Eskes, the Solway where they loose their Names,
To eu’rie one proclaime our Joyes, and Feasts,
Our Triumphes; bid all come, and bee our Guests:
And as they meet in Neptunes azure Hall,
Bid Them bid Sea—Gods keepe this Festiuall.
This Day shall by our Currents bee renown’d,
Our Hills about shall still this Day resound:
Nay, that our Loue more to this Day appeare,
Let vs with it hence foorh begin our Yeare.
To Virgins Flowres, to Sunne—burnt Earth the Raine,
To Mariners faire Winds amidst the Maine:
Coole Shades to Pilgrimes, which hote Glances burne,
Please not so much, to vs as Thy Returne.
That Day (deare Prince) which rest vs of thy Sight,
[Day, no, but Darknesse, and a duskie Night]
Did fraight our Brests with Sighs, our Eyes with Teares,
Turn’d Minutes in sad Months, sad Months in Yeares:
Trees left to flowrish, Medowes to beare Flowres,
Brookes hid their Heads within their sedgie Bowres,
Faire Ceres curst our Fields with barren Frost,
As if againe shee had her Daughter lost:
The Muses left our Groues, and for sweete Songs
Sate sadlie silent, or did weepe their Wrongs;
Yee know it Meads, yee murmuring Woods it know,
Hilles, Dales, and Caues, Copartners of their Woe;
And yee it know my Streames, which from their Eine
Oft on your Glasse receiu’d their pearled Brine;
O Na
(John Adamson)
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Based on Topics: God Poems, Light Poems, Sadness Poems, Nature Poems, Faces Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Place Poems, Past Poems, Spring Poems, Praise PoemsBased on Keywords: conspir, liuing, reare, joyfull, beate, rie, melodie, rowling, shadowes, stone-, bankes