John Adamson

O Royal Phoebus keepe this course for ever,
And from thy deare Britannia never sever,
But if the Fates will rather frame it so
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Burst furth, my Muse, too long thou holds thy peace,
Paint furth the passions of thy new-borne joy:
Forbear to sing thy lovelie layes a space;
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Great Man of God, whom God doeth call, and choose
On Earth his great Lieutenents place to use,
Wee blesse the tyme, wherin the threefold Croun
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Who with sweet layes (O King) would please thyne eare,
Or make thy glorie more by verse appeare,
Hee with à Torch should seeme to cleare the day,
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If, in this Storme of joy and pompous Throng,
This Nymphe (great King) come euer Thee so neare
That Thy harmonious Eares Her Accents heare,
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Fair Fidelia, tempt no more,
I may no more thy deity adore
Nor offer to thy shrine,
I serve one more divine
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