102
To His Sacred MAJESTY,
Musick her self is lost, in vain she brings
Her choisest Notes to praise the best of Kings:
Her melting Strains in you a tomb have found,
And lie like Bees in their own sweetness drown'd.
He that brought Peace and Discord could atone,
His Name is Musick of it self alone.
Now while the Sacred Oil anoints your Head,
And fragrant Scents, begun from you, are spread
Through the large Dome, the Peoples joyful Sound
Sent back, is still preserv'd in hallow'd Ground:
Which in one Blessing mixt descends on you,
As heightned Spirits fall in richer Dew.
Not that our Wishes do increase your Store,
Full of your self you can admit no more:
We add not to your Glory, but employ
Our time like Angels in expressing Joy.
Nor is it duty or our hopes alone
Create that Joy, but full Fruition:
We know those Blessings which we must possess,
And judge of future by past happiness,
No Promise can oblige a Prince so much
Still to be good, as long to have been such.
Her choisest Notes to praise the best of Kings:
Her melting Strains in you a tomb have found,
And lie like Bees in their own sweetness drown'd.
He that brought Peace and Discord could atone,
His Name is Musick of it self alone.
Now while the Sacred Oil anoints your Head,
And fragrant Scents, begun from you, are spread
Through the large Dome, the Peoples joyful Sound
Sent back, is still preserv'd in hallow'd Ground:
Which in one Blessing mixt descends on you,
As heightned Spirits fall in richer Dew.
Not that our Wishes do increase your Store,
Full of your self you can admit no more:
We add not to your Glory, but employ
Our time like Angels in expressing Joy.
Nor is it duty or our hopes alone
Create that Joy, but full Fruition:
We know those Blessings which we must possess,
And judge of future by past happiness,
No Promise can oblige a Prince so much
Still to be good, as long to have been such.
A
