NOTE.
See Note on page 184 for reference on the title here and elsewhere of 'Airelles.' G.
UPON THE KING'S CORONATION.[89]
Sound forth, cœlestiall organs, let heauen's quire
Ravish the dancing orbes, make them mount higher
With nimble capers, & force Atlas tread
Vpon his tiptoes, e're his siluer head
Shall kisse his golden curthen. Thou glad Isle,
That swim'st as deepe in joy, as seas, now smile;
Lett not thy weighty glories, this full tide
Of blisse, debase thee; but with a just pride
Swell: swell to such an height, that thou maist vye
With heauen itselfe for stately majesty.
Doe not deceiue mee, eyes: doe I not see
In this blest earth heauen's bright epitome,
Circled with pure refinèd glory? heere
I view a rising sunne in this our sphere,
Whose blazing beames, maugre the blackest night,
And mists of greife, dare force a joyfull light.
The gold, in wch he flames, does well præsage
A precious season, & a golden age.
Doe I not see joy keepe his revels now,
And sitt triumphing in each cheerfull brow?
Vnmixt felicity with siluer wings
Broodeth this sacred place: hither Peace brings
The choicest of her oliue-crownes, & praies
To haue them guilded with his courteous raies.
Doe I not see a Cynthia, who may
Abash the purest beauties of the day?
To whom heauen's lampes often in silent night
Steale from their stations to repaire their light.
Doe I not see a constellation,
Each little beame of wch would make a sunne?
I meane those three great starres, who well may scorn
Acquaintance with the vsher of the morne.
To gaze vpon such starres each humble eye
Would be ambitious of astronomie
Who would not be a phœnix, & aspire
To sacrifice himselfe in such sweet fire?
Shine forth, ye flaming sparkes of Deity,
Yee perfect emblemes of divinity.
Fixt in your spheres of glory, shed from thence,
The treasures of our liues, your influence,
For if you sett, who may not justly feare,
The world will be one ocean, one great teare.
UPON THE KING'S CORONATION.
Strange metamorphosis! It was but now
The sullen heauen had vail'd its mournfull brow
With a black maske: the clouds with child by Greife
Traueld th' Olympian plaines to find releife.
But at the last (having not soe much power
As to refraine) brought forth a costly shower
Of pearly drops, & sent her numerous birth
(As tokens of her greife) vnto the Earth.
Alas, the Earth, quick drunke with teares, had reel'd
From of her center, had not Ioue vpheld
The staggering lumpe: each eye spent all its store,
As if heereafter they would weepe noe more:
Streight from this sea of teares there does appeare
Full glory naming in her owne free sphere.
Amazèd Sol throwes of his mournfull weeds,
Speedily harnessing his fiery steeds,
Vp to Olympus' stately topp he hies,
From whence his glorious rivall hee espies.
Then wondring starts, & had the curteous night
Withheld her vaile, h' had forfeited his sight.
The joy full sphæres with a delicious sound
Afright th' amazèd aire, and dance a round
To their owne musick, nor (untill they see
This glorious Phœbus sett) will quiet bee.
Each aery Siren now hath gott her song,
To whom the merry lambes doe tripp along
The laughing meades, as joy full to behold
Their winter coates couer'd with naming gold.
Such was the brightnesse of this Northerne starre,
It made the virgin phœnix come from farre
To be repair'd: hither she did resort,
Thinking her father had remou'd his Court.
The lustre of his face did shine soe bright,
That Rome's bold egles now were blinded quite;
The radiant darts shott from his sparkling eyes,
Made euery mortall gladly sacrifice
A heart burning in loue; all did adore
This rising sunne; their faces nothing wore,
But smiles, and ruddy joyes, and at this day
All melancholy clouds vanisht away.