VERSES Spoken to the KING, QVEEN, and DƲTCHESSE of YORKE in St JOHN'S Library in Oxford.
Spoken to the KING and QUEEN in St John's Library.
BIrds have found Language, Elephants a Knee
To Complement the approach of Majesty:
None so much statue but (like Memnons) playes
Anthems to welcome such illustrious rayes.
Your presence, Madam, here doth paralel
Our Baptists desert to a Boscobel.
Our Mother glories that your smiles upon her
Create her Virgin Muses maids of Honour.
Your station 'twixt these Globes doth prompt our pen
To fansie Princes plac'd 'twixt Gods and men;
Here men, there Angels ply their different Spheres,
Our house of Commons, and your House of Peers.
May your last progress here reach Nestor's Summe,
Till the Supreme Star-Chamber call you home:
Whil'st Angels propagate, and you display
A little CHARLES his Waine, and Milky Way:
These Asterismes are only wanting yet
To make VVhite. Hall a Heaven, and Heaven complete.
Perfection, Madam, from your self must grow:
Kings are Immortal, but Queens make them so.
To her Highness the DVTCHESSE of YORK in the same place.
IF Duty without Compliment may stand,
And they who can but kneel, may kiss your Hand:
If Muses Country Girles their skil may try,
Though't spoile an Honour to a Courtesie:
Wee'd rally all our forces to express
Your Noblest Welcome in a plain address:
Mars wee'd assign your Guard, but that we are
Assur'd, your DUKES a greater God of War:
The Graces to attend you wee'd call forth,
But that th'are all ingross'd in your own worth;
And Venus with her Cupid too should come,
But that you have a sweeter Prince at home:
Thus Poets Dream, and Muses fancy less
Then what Fates judg you worthy to possess:
Our Pegasus with duty wing'd we show,
Others may higher fly, none stoop so low.
The END.