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Look in thy soul, and thou shalt beauties find,
Like those which drown'd Narcissus in the flood :

HYMN 11.
Honour and pleasure both are in thy mind,
And all that in the world is counted good.

E TERNAL virgin, goddess true,
Think of her worth, and think that God did mean, Let me presume to sing to you

This worthy mind should worthy things embrace: I ove, e'en great Jove hath leisure
Blot not her beauties with thy thoughts unclean, Sometimes to hear the vulgar crew,

Nor her dishonour with thy passion base. A nd hears them oft with pleasure.
Kill not her quick'ning pow'r with surfeitings: B lessed Astrea, I in part
Mar not her sense with sensuality :

E njoy the blessings you impart,
Cast not her wit on idle things :

The peace, the milk, and honey, Make not her free will slave to vanity.

Humanity, and civil art,

A richer dow'r than money. And wäer thou think'st of her eternity,

Think not that death against her nature is ; . Right glad am I that now I live,
Think it a birth: and when thou go'st to die, E 'en in these days whereto' you give
Sing like a swan, as if thou went'st to bliss. Great bappiness and glory;

If after you I should be born,
And if thou, like a child, didst fear before, N o doubt I' should my birth-day scorn

Being in the dark, where thou didst nothing see; A dmiring your sweet story.
Now I have brought thee torch-light, fear no more;
Now when thou dy'st, thou canst not hood-wink'd

And thou, my soul, which turn'st with carious eye,

To view the beams of thine 'own form divine,
Know, that thou canst know nothing perfectly, E ARTH now is green, and Heaven is blue,
While thou art clouded with this flesh of mine. Lively Spring which makes all new,

I olly Spring doth enter;
Take heed of over-weening, and compare

Sweet young sun-beams do subdue
Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's train: A ngry, aged Winter.
Study the best and highest things that are,
But of thyself an humble thought retain. B lasts are mild, and seas are calm,

E very meadow flows with balm,
Cast down thyself, and only strive to raise

The earth wears all her riches;
The glory of thy Maker's sacred name: H armonious birds sing such a psalm,
Use all thy pow'rs, that blessed pow'r to praise, A s ear and heart bewitches.
Which gives thee pow'r to be, and use the same.

Reserve (sweet Spring) this nymph of ours,
E ternal garlands of thy flow'rs,
G reen garlands never wasting;

In her shall last our state's fair spring,
HYMNS OF ASTREA, Now and for ever flourishing,

A s long as Heav'n is lasting.





Each day of thine, sweet month of May,
Love makes a solemn holy-day."
I will perform like duty,
Sith thou resemblest every way
A strea, queen of beauty,

E arly before the day doth spring;
Let us awake my Muse and sing,
It is no time to slumber,
So many joys this time doth bring,
As time will fail to number.
But whereunto shall we bend our lays ?
E'en up to Heaven, again to raise
The maid which thence descended;
H ath brought again the golden days,
A nd all the world amended.
R udeness itself she doth refine,
E'en like an alchymist divine,
Gross times of iron turning
I nio the purest form of gold;
Not to corrupt, till Heaven wax old,
A ad be refin'd with burning.

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TO ALL THE PRINCES OF EUROPL E UROPE, the Earth's sweet paradise: L et all thy kings that would be wise, I'n politic devotion, S ail hither to observe her eyes, A nd mark her heav'nly motion.


TO THE LARK E ARLY cheerful mounting lark, Light's gentle usher, morning's clark, 1 o merry notes delighting : Stint awhile thy song, and hark, A nd learn my new inditing. B ear up this hymn, to Heav'n it bear, E'en up to Heav'n, and sing it there, To Heav'n each morning bear it;' Have it set. to some sweet sphere, A nd let the angels hear it. Renown'd Astrea, that great name, Exceeding great in worth and fame, Great worth hath so renown'd it, It is Astrea's name I praise, Now then, sweet lark, do thou it raise, And in high Heaven resound it.

B rave princess of this civil age,
Enter into this pilgrimage:
This saint's tongue's an oracle,
H er eye hath made a prince a page,
A nd works each day a miracle.
R aise but your looks to her, and see
E'en the true beams of majesty,
Great princes, mark her duly ;
If all the world you do survey,
No forebead spreads so bright a ray,
And notes a prince so truly.



E MPress of flow'rs, tell where away
Lies your sweet court this May,
In Greenwich garden alleys:
Since there the heav'nly pow'rs do play
A nd haunt no other valleys.

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TO TAE NIGHTINGALE. E v'ry night from ev'n to morn, Love's chorister amid the thorn I s now so sweet a singer, So sweet, as for her song I scorn A pollo's voice and finger. B ut nightingale, sith you delight E ver to watch the starry night, Tell all the stars of Heaven, Hearen never had a star so bright, A s now to Earth is given. Royal Astrea makes our day Eternal with her beams, nor may Gross darkness overcome her; I now perceive why some do write, No country hath so short a night, As England hath in summer.

B eauty, Virtue, Majesty,
E loquent. Muses, three times three,
The new fresh Hours, and Graces,
Have pleasure in this place to be,
A bove all other places.
Roses and lilies did them draw,
E re they divine Astrea,saw,
G ay Aow'rs they sought for pleasure :
I nstead of gath'ring crowns of flow'rs,
Now gather they Astrea's dowers,
A nd bear to Heav'n that treasure.



Eye of the garden, queen of flow'rs
Love's cup wherein lie nectar's pow'rs,
I ngender'd first of nectar:
S weet nurse-child of the spring's young hours,
A nd beauty's fair character.
B less'd jewel that the Earth doth wear,
E’en when the brave young Sun draws near,
To her hot love pretending;
Himself likewise like form doth bear,
At rising and descending.
Rose of the queen of love belov'd;
England's great kings divinely mov'd,
Gave roses in their banner;
It show'd that beauty's rose indeed,
Now in this age should them succeed,
A ad reign in more sweet manner.


TO THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER. E ACH month hath praise in some degree; L et May to others seem to be In sense the sweetest season ; September thou art best to me, A nd best doth please my reason. B ut neither for thy corn nor wine Extol I those mild days of thine, Though corn and wine might praise thee, Heav'n gives thee bonour more divine, A nd higher fortunes raise tbee. Renown'd art thou (sweet month) for this, E mong thy days her birth-day is, G race, Plenty, Peace, and Honour, In one fair hour with her were born, N ow since they still her crown adora, A nd still attend upon her.

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OF THE PASSIONS OF HER HEART. EXAMINE not th' inscrutable heart, Light Muse of her, though she in part I mpart it to the subject; Search not, although from Heav'n thou art, A nd this an heav'nly object.


OP HER MEMORY. EXCELLENT jewels would you see, Lovely ladies come with me, I will (for love I owe you) S how you as rich a treasury, A s east or west can show you. Behold, if you can judge of it, E r'n that great store-bouse of her wit, T hat beautiful large table, H er memory, wherein is writ A ll knowledge admirable. Read this fair book, and you shall learn E xquisite skill; if you discern, G ain Heav'n by this discerning; In such a memory divine, Nature did form the Muses nine, A nd Pallas, queen of learning.

B ut since she hath a heart, we know,
E re some passions thence do flow,
Though ever ruled with honour ;
H er judgment reigns, they wait below,
And fix their eyes upon her.
R ectify'd so, they in their kind
E ncrease each virtue of her mind,
Govern'd with mild tranquillity ;
In all the regions under Heav'n,
N o state doth bear itself so even,
A nd with so sweet facility.


OF HER FANCY. E XQUISITE curiosity, Look on thyself with judging eye, If anght be faulty, leave it: So delicate a fantasy As this, will straight perceive it. Because her temper is so fine, Endow'd with harmonies divine; Therefore if discord strike it, H er trae proportions do repine, And sadly do mislike it. Right otherwise a pleasure sweet, E'er she takes in actions meet, G racing with smiles such meetness; In her fair forehead beams appear, No summer's day is half so clear, A dorn'd with half that sweetness.

HYMN XXI. OF THE INNUMERABLE VIRTUES OF HER MIND E RE thou proceed in these sweet pains Learr, Muse, how many drops it rains In cold and moist December; Sum up May flow'rs, and August's grains, A nd grapes of mild September. B ear the sea's sand in memory, Earth's grass, and the stars in the sky, The little moats which mounted, H ang in the beams of Phoebus' eye, A nd never can be counted.

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Recount these numbers numberless,
E re thou her virtue can express,
Great wits this count will cumber.
I nstruct thyself in numb'ring schools;
Now courtiers use to beg for fools,
A ll such as cannot pumber.




OF THE ORGANS OF HER MIND. E clips'o she is, and her bright rays Lie under veils, yet many ways Is her fair form revealed; She diversely herself conveys, And cannot be concealed.

E AGLB-ey'd Wisdom, life's load-star,
Looking near on things afar;
I ove's best belov'd daughter,
S bows to her spirit all that are,
A s Jove himself hath taught her.

By instruments her pow'rs appear
Exceedingly well tun'd and clear :
T his lute is still in measure,
Holds still in tune, e'en like a sphere,
And yields the world sweet pleasure.
Resolve me, Muse, how this thing is,
E re a body like to this
Gave Hear'n to earthly creature ?
I am but fond this doubt to make,
No doubt the angels bodies take,
A bove our common nature.

By this straight rule she rectifies
Each thought that in her heart doth rise:
This is her clear true mirror,
Her looking-glass, wherein she spies
A ll forms of truth and errour..
Right princely virtue fit to reign,
Enthroniz'd in her spirit remain,
Guiding our fortunes ever;
If we this star once cease to see,
No doubt our state will shipwreck'd be,
A nd torn and sunk for ever..

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