Most sacred Majesty, whose great deserts
Thy subject England, nay, the world, admires:
Which heaven grant still increase! O, may your praise
Multiplying with your hours, your fame still raise!
Embrace your council: love with faith them guide,
That both, as one, bench by each other’s side.
So may your life pass on, and run so even,
That your firm zeal plant you a throne in heaven,
Where smiling angels shall your guardians be
From blemish’d traitors, stain’d with perjury.
And as the night’s inferior to the day,
So be all earthly regions to your sway!
Be as the sun to day, the day to night,
For from your beams Europe shall borrow light.
Mirth drown your bosom, fair delight your mind,
And may our pastime your contentment find.
[Exit Prologue.]
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg