HYMN VII.
To the Rose.
E ye of the garden! Queen of Flowers!
L ove's cup, wherein he nectar pours!
I ngendered first of nectar.
S weet nurse-child of the Spring's young Hours!
A nd Beauty's fair Character!
B est jewel that the earth doth wear!
E ven when the brave young sun draws near,
T o her hot love pretending;
H imself likewise, like form doth bear,
A t rising and descending.
R ose, of the Queen of Love beloved!
E ngland's great Kings (divinely moved)
G ave Roses in their banner:
I t shewed, that Beauty's Rose indeed,
N ow in this Age should them succeed,
A nd reign in more sweet manner.