HYMNE I. Of Astraea.
E arly before the day doth spring,
L et vs awake my Muse, and sing;
I t is no time to slumber,
S o many Ioyes this time doth bring,
A s time will faile to number.
B ut whereto shall we bend our Layes?
E uen vp to Heauen, againe to raise
T he Mayde, which thence descended
H ath brought againe the golden dayes,
A nd all the world amended.
R udenesse it selfe she doth refine,
E uen like an Alchymist diuine,
G rosse times of Iron turning
I nto the purest forme of gold:
N ot to corrupt, till heauen waxe old,
A nd be refin'd with burning.
HYMNE II. To Astraea.
E ternall Virgin,
Goddesse true,
L et me presume to sing to you.
I
oue, euen great
loue hath leisure
S ometimes to heare the vulgar crew,
A nd heares them oft with pleasure.
B lessed
Astraea, I in part
E nioy the blessings you impart,
T he
Peace, the milke and hony,
H umanity, and ciuill
Art,
A richer
Dower then money.
R ight glad am I that now I liue,
E uen in these daies whereto you giue
G reat happinesse and glorie;
I fafter you I should be borne,
N o doubt I should my birth day scorne,
A dmiring your sweete storie.
HYMNE III. To the Spring.
E arth now is greene, and heauen is blew,
L iuely Spring which makes all new
I olly Spring doth enter,
S weete young Sun-beames do subdue
A ngry, aged winter.
B lasts are mild, and Seas are calme,
E uery medow flowes with Balme,
T he earth weares all her riches,
H armonious birdes sing such a Psalme
A s eare and hart bewitches.
R eserue (sweete Spring) this Nymph of ours
E ternall garlands of thy flowers,
G reene garlands neuer wasting;
I n her shall last our
states faire spring,
N ow and for euer flourishing,
A s long as heauen is lasting.
HYMNE IIII. To the moneth of May.
E ach day of thine, sweete moneth of May,
L oue makes a solemne holy-day:
I will performe like dutie,
S ince thou resemblest euery way
A
straea Queene of beautie.
B oth you fresh beauties do partake,
E ithers aspect doth Sommer make:
T houghts of young Loue awaking
H earts you both do cause to ake,
A nd yet be pleasd with
aking.
R ight deare art thou, and so is shee,
E uen like attractiue Sympathie,
G aines vnto both like dearenesse;
I weene this made Antiquitie
N ame thee, Sweete
May of
Maiestie,
A s being both like in
clearenesse.
HYMNE V. To the Larke.
E arly chearfull, mounting Larke,
L ights gentle Vsher, mornings clarke,
I n merrie Notes delighting:
S tint a while thy Song, and harke,
A nd learne my new Inditing.
B eare vp this Hymne, to heau'n it beare,
E uen vp to heau'n, and sing it there,
T o heau'n each morning beare it;
H aue it set to some sweete Sphere,
A nd let the Angels heare it.
R enownd
Astraea, that great name,
E xceeding great in worth and fame,
G reat worth hath so renownd it,
I t is
Astraeas name I praise,
N ow then, sweete Larke, do thou it raise,
A nd in high Heauen resound it.
HYMNE VI. To the Nightingale.
E uery night from Euen till Morne
L oues Quirister amidde the thorne
I s now so sweet a Singer,
S o sweete, as for her Song I scorne
A pollos voice, and finger.
B ut Nightingale since you delight
E uer to watch the Starrie night,
T o all the Starres of heauen,
H eauen neuer had a Starre so bright,
A s now to earth is giuen.
R oyall
Astraea makes our Day
E ternall with her beames, nor may
G rosse darkenesse ouercome her;
I now perceiue why some do write,
N o countrie hath so short a night,
A s England hath in sommer.
HYMNE VII. To the Rose.
E ye of the garden, Queene of flowers,
L oues Cuppe wherein he Nectar poures,
I ngendred first of Nectar:
S weete nurse-child of the Springs young howres,
A nd Beauties faire Character.
B est Iewell that the earth doth weare,
E uen whē the braue yong Sun drawes neare,
T o her hoate Loue pretending;
H imselfe likewise like forme doth beare,
A t rising and descending.
R ose of the Queene of loue belou'd;
E nglands great Kings diuinely mou'd,
G aue Roses in their Banner;
I t shewed that Bewties Rose indeede,
N ow in this age should them succeede,
A nd raigne in more sweet manner.
HYMNE VIII. To all the Princes of Europe.
E
urope the Earthes sweete Paradise:
L et all thy Kings that would be wise,
I n
Politique Deuotion:
S aile hither to obserue her eyes,
A nd marke her heauenly motion.
B raue Princes of this ciuill age,
E nter into this pilgrimage:
T his Saints tongue is an oracle,
H er eye hath made a Prince a Page,
A nd workes each day a Miracle.
R aise but your lookes to her, and see
E uen the true beames of Maiestie,
G reat Princes, marke her duly;
I fall the world you do suruey,
N o forehead spreades so bright a Ray,
A nd notes a Prince so truly.
HYMNE IX. To Flora.
E mpresse of flowers, tell where a way
L ies your sweet Court this merry
May,
I n
Greenewich garden Allies:
S ince there the heauenly powers do play,
A nd haunt no other Vallies.
B ewty, vertue, Maiestie,
E loquent Muses, three times three,
T he new fresh houres and Graces,
H aue pleasure in this place to be,
A boue all other Places.
R oses and Lillies did them draw,
E r they diuine
Astraea saw;
G ay flowers they sought for pleasure:
I n steede of gathering crownes of flowers,
N ow gather they
Astraeas Dowers,
A nd beare to heauen that treasure.
HYMNE X. To the moneth of September.
E ach Moneth hath praise in some degree;
L et May to others seeme to be
I n Sense the sweetest Season;
S eptember thou art best to me,
A nd best dost please my reason.
B ut neither for thy Corne nor Wine
E xtoll I those mild dayes of thine,
T hough corne and wine might praise thee;
H eauen giues thee honor more diuine,
A nd higher fortunes raise thee.
R enownd art thou (sweet moneth) for this,
E mong thy dayes her birth day is,
G race, plenty, peace and
honor
I n one faire houre with her were borne,
N ow since they still her Crowne adorne,
A nd still attend vpon her.
HYMNE XI. To the Sunne.
E ye of the world, fountaine of light,
L ife of day, and death of night,
I humbly seeke thy kindnesse:
S weet, dazle not my feeble sight,
A nd strike me not with blindnesse.
B ehold me mildly from that face,
E uen where thou now dost runne thy race,
T he Spheare where now thou turnest;
H auing like Phaeton chang'd thy place,
A nd yet hearts onely burnest.
R ed in her right cheeke thou dost rise;
E xalted after in her eyes,
G reat glorie there thou shewest:
I n thother cheeke when thou descendest,
N ew rednesse vnto it thou lendest,
A nd so thy Round thou goest.
HYMNE XII. To her Picture.
E xtreame was his Audacitie;
L ittle his Skill that finisht thee,
I am asham'd and Sorry,
S o dull her counterfait should be,
A nd she so full of glory.
B ut here are colours red and white,
E ach lyne, and each proportion right;
T hese Lynes, this red, and whitenesse,
H aue wanting yet a life and light,
A Maiestie, and brightnesse.
R ude counterfait, I then did erre,
E uen now, when I would needes inferre,
G reat boldnesse in thy maker:
I did mistake, he was not bold;
N or durst his eyes her eyes behold;
A nd this made him mistake her.
HYMNE XIII. Of her Mind.
E arth now adiew, my rauisht thought
L ifted to heau'n, sets thee at nought;
I nfinit is my longing,
S ecrets of Angels to be taught,
A nd things to heau'n belonging.
B rought downe frō heau'n of Angels kind,
E uen now do I admire her mind:
T his is my contemplation,
H er cleare sweet
Spirit which is refind,
A boue Humane
Creation.
R ich Sun-beame of th'aeternall light,
E xcellent
Soule, how shall I wright;
G ood Angels make me able;
I cannot see but by your eye,
N or, but by your tongue, Signifie,
A thing so Admirable.
HYMNE XIIII. Of the Sun-beames of her Mind.
E xceeding glorious is this starre;
L et vs behold her Beames a farre
I n a side lyne reslected;
S ight beares them not when neare they are
A nd in right lines directed.
B ehold her in her vertues beames,
E xtending Sun-like to all Realmes;
T he Sunne none viewes too nearely;
H er well of goodnesse in these streames,
A ppeares right well and clearely.
R adiant vertues, if your light
E nfeeble the best Iudgements sight,
G reat splendor aboue measure
I s in the minde, from whence you flow:
N o wit may haue accesse to know,
A nd view so bright a treasure.
HYMNE XV. Of her VVit.
E ye of that mind most quicke and cleare,
L ike Heau'ns eye, which from his spheare,
I nto all things pryeth,
S ees through all things euery where,
A nd all their natures tryeth.
B right Image of an Angels wit,
E xceeding sharpe, and swift like it,
T hings instantly discerning:
H auing a Nature infinit,
A nd yet increasd by learning.
R ebound vpon thy selfe thy light,
E nioy thine owne sweete precious sight:
G iue vs but some reflection;
I t is enough for vs, if wee
N ow in her speech, now pollicie,
A dmire thine high perfection.
HYMNE XVI. Of her will.
E uer well affected
will,
L ouing
goodnesse, Loathing
ill,
I nestimable Treasure:
S ince such a power hath power to spill,
A nd saue vs at her pleasure.
B e thou our law, sweet
will, and say
E uen what thou wilt, we will obay
T his Law, if I could reade it:
H erein would I spend night and day,
A nd study still to plead it.
R oyall
free will, and onely
free,
E ach other
will is Slaue to thee:
G lad is each
will to serue thee:
I n thee such Princely power is seene,
N o Spirit but takes thee for her Queene,
A nd thinkes she must obserue thee.
HYMNE XVII. Of her Memorie.
E xcellent Iewels would you see,
L ouely Ladies? come with me,
I will (for loue I owe you)
S hew you as rich a Treasure,
A s East or West can shew you.
B ehold, if you can iudge of it,
E uen that great Store-house of her wit;
T hat bewtifull large Table:
H er
memorie wherein is writ
A ll Knowledge admirable.
R eade this faire booke, & you shall learne
E xquisite Skill if you discerne,
G aine heau'n by this discerning;
I n such a memorie diuine,
N ature did forme the
Muses nine,
A nd
Pallas Queene of Learning.
HYMNE XVIII. Of her Phantasie.
E xquisite curiositie,
L ooke on thy selfe with iudging eye,
I f ought be faultie leaue it,
S o delicate a phantasie
A s this, will straight perceiue it.
B ecause her temper is so fine,
E ndewed with harmonies diuine:
T herefore if discord strike it,
H er true proportions do repine,
A nd sadly do mislike it.
R ight otherwise a pleasure sweete,
E uer she takes in actions meete;
G racing with smiles such meetnesse;
I n her faire forehead beames appeare:
N o Sommers day is halfe so cleare,
A dornd with halfe that sweetnesse.
HYMNE XIX. Of the Organs of her Minde.
E clipsed she is, and her bright rayes
L ie vnder vailes, yet many wayes
I s her faire forme reuealed;
S he diuersly her selfe conueyes,
A nd cannot be concealed.
B y Instruments her powers appeare
E xceedingly well tun'd and cleare:
T his Lute is still in measure,
H olds still in tune, euen like a spheare,
A nd yeelds the world sweet pleasure.
R esolue me, Muse, how this thing is,
E uer a bodie like to this
G aue heau'n to earthly creature?
I am but fond this doubt to make,
N o doubt the Angels bodies take,
A boue our common nature.
HYMNE XX. Of the Passions of her Heart.
E xamine not
th'inscrutable Hart,
L ight
Muse of her, though she in part
I mpart it to the Subiect;
S earch not, although from heau'n thou art,
A nd this an Heauenly obiect.
B ut since she hath a hart, we know
E uer some passions thence do flow,
T hough euer rul'd with Honor;
H er Iudgement raignes, they waite below,
A nd fixe their eyes vpon her.
R ectified so, they in their kind
E ncrease each Vertue of her mind,
G ouern'd with mild tranquillitie;
I n all the Regions vnder Heau'n,
N o State doth beare it selfe so euen,
A nd with so sweet facilitie.
HYMNE XXI. Of th'innumerable Vertues of her Mind.
E re thou proceede in this sweet paines,
L earne
Muse how many drops it raynes
I n cold and moist
December;
S umme vp
May flowers &
Augusts graines,
A nd grapes of mild
September.
B eare the Seassands in memorie,
E arths grasses, and the starres in Skie,
T he litle moares which mounted
H ang, in the beames of
Phoebus eye,
A nd neuer can be counted.
R ecount these numbers numberlesse,
E re thou her vertue canst expresse,
G reat wits this count will cumber,
I nstruct thy selfe in numbring Schooles;
N ow Courtiers vse to begge for fooles,
A ll such as cannot number.
HYMNE XXII. Of her Wisedome.
E gle-eyed Wisedome, lifes Loadstarre,
L ooking neare on things a farre;
I
oues best beloued daughter,
S howes to her Spirit all things that are,
A s
loue himselfe hath taught her.
B y this straight Rule she rectifies
E ach thought that in her hart doth rise:
T his is her cleare true mirror
H er
looking glasse, wherein she spies
A ll formes of Truth and Error.
R ight princely Vertue, fit to raigne,
E nthroniz'd in her Spirit remaine,
G uiding our fortunes euer;
I f we this Starre once cease to see,
N o doubt our State will Ship-wrackt be,
A nd torne and sunke for euer.
HYMNE XXIII. Of her Iustice.
E xil'd
Astraea is come againe,
L o here she doth all things maintaine
I n
number, waight, and
measure:
S he rules vs with delightfull paine,
A nd we obey with pleasure.
B y Loue shee rules more then by Law,
E uen her great
mercy breedeth awe:
T his is her Sword and Scepter,
H erewith she hearts did euer draw,
A nd this Guard euer kept her.
R eward doth sit in her right hand:
E ach Vertue thence takes her Garland
G ather'd in Honors garden:
I n her left hand (wherein should be
N ought but the Sword) sits Clemencie,
A nd conquers Vice with pardon.
HYMNE XXIIII. Of her Magnanimitie.
E uen as her State, so is her Mind,
L isted aboue the vulgar kind:
I t treades proud Fortune vnder,
S un-like it sits aboue the wind,
A boue the stormes, and Thunder.
B raue Spirit, large Heart, admiring
nought
E steeming each thing as it ought,
T hat swelleth not, nor shrinketh:
H onor is alwaies in her thought,
A nd of great things she thinketh.
R ocks, Pillars, and heau'ns Axel-tree,
E xemplifie her Constancie;
G reat changes neuer chaunge her:
I n her Sexe feares are wont to rise,
N ature permits, Vertue denies,
A nd scornes the face of
daunger.
HYMNE XXV. Of her Moderation.
E mpresse of kingdomes thongh she be,
L arger is her Soueraigntie,
I f she her selfe do gouerne;
S ubiect vnto her selfe is shee,
A nd of her selfe true Soueraigne;
B ewties Crowne though she do weare,
E xalted into Fortunes chaire,
T hron'd like the Queene of Pleasure:
H er Vertues still possesse her Eare,
A nd counsell her to Measure.
R eason, if she incarnate were,
E uen Reasons selfe could neuer beare
G reatnesse with Moderation;
I n her one temper still is seene,
N o libertie claimes she as Queene,
A nd showes no alteration.
HYMNE XXVI. To Enuie.
E nuie go weepe, my Muse and I
L augh thee to scorne; thy feeble Eye
I s dazled with the glorie
S hining in this gay poesie,
A nd litle golden Storie.
B ehold how my proud quil doth shed
E ternall
Nectar on her head:
T he pompe of Coronation
H ath not such power her fame to spread,
A s this my admiration.
R espect my Pen as free and franke,
E xpecting not Reward nor Thanke;
G reat wonder onely moues it;
I neuer made it mercenary;
N or should my Muse this burthen carie
A s hyr'd, but that she loues it.
FINIS.