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Thomas Campion

The first Booke of Ayres



1   Brauely deckt come forth bright day,
Thine houres with Roses strew thy way,
        As they well remember.
Thou receiu'd shalt be with feasts,
Come chiefest of the British ghests,
        Thou fift of Nouember.
Thou with triumph shalt exceede
        In the strictest ember ;
For by thy returne the Lord records his blessed deede.

2   Britaines frolicke at your bourd,
But first sing praises to the Lord
        In your Congregations.
Hee preseru'd your state alone,
His louing grace hath made you one
        Of his chosen Nations.
But this light must hallowed be
        With your best Oblations ;
Prayse the Lord, for onely grat and mercifull is hee.

3   Death had enter'd in the gate,
And ruine was crept neare the State ;
        But heau'n all reuealed.
Fi'ry Powder hell did make,
Which ready long the flame to take,
        Lay in shade concealed.
God vs helpt of his free grace,
        None to him appealed ;
For none was so bad to feare the treason or the place.

4   God his peacefull Monarch chose,
To him the mist he did disclose,
        To him, and none other ;
This hee did O King for thee,
That thou thine owne renowne might'st see,
        Which no time can smother:
May blest Charles thy comfort be
        Firmer then his Brother,
May his heart the loue of peace, and wisedom learne from thee.


Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer