Poems, &c. By James Shirley.

About this Item

Title
Poems, &c. By James Shirley.
Author
Shirley, James, 1596-1666.
Publication
London :: Printed [by Ruth Raworth and Susan Islip] for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the signe of the Princes Armes in St. Pauls Church-yard,
1646.
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Cite this Item
"Poems, &c. By James Shirley." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A93175.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 5, 2024.

Pages

Page 28

Ʋpon the Princes Birth.

FAir fall the Muses that in well-chim'd verse Our Princes happy birth do sing, I have a heart as full of joy as their's, As full of duty to my King, And thus I tell How every bell Did ring forth Englands merry glee, The Bonefires too, With much adoe It were great pity to belye her, Made all the City seem one fire, A joyful sight to see.
The graver Citizens were foxt that day, With beer and joy most soundly paid, The Constables in duty reeld away, And charged others them to aid: To see how soon Both Sun and Moon, And the seven Stars forgotten be; But when 'twas night Their heads were light, To which they did exalt their horn, Because a Prince of Wales was born: A joyful &c.

Page 29

The Dutch-men having drunk so much before, Could not so well expresse their joy: The French condemn'd not to be sober more, Drank healths unto the Royal Boy, In their own wine, Neat, brisk, and fine: The valiant Irish, Cram-a-Cree, It pledged hath In Ʋsquebagh, And being in this jovial vein, They made a bogg even of their brain, A joyful &c.
The Welsh for joy her Cosin Prince was born, Was mean to change S. Tavie's day, Swearing no leeks was be hereafter worn But on the twenty nine of May: None so merry Drinking Perry, And Metheglin on their knee; Was every man A Trojan than; Thus arm'd the Tivel her defie, And dare tell Beelzebub her lie. A joyful &c.
The Scots in bonny ale their joy did sing, And wish'd the Royal Babe a man That they might beg him but to be their King, And let him rule'em when he can: The Spanjard made A shrugg, and said

Page 30

After my pipe, come follow me, Canary Sack Did go to wrack, Some Marchants went to Malago, Some drown'd in good old Charnico, A joyful &c.
And now let all good Subjects prayers ascend, That heaven with milk would swel their brest That nurse the babe, may Angels still attend To rock him gently to his rest. Let his glory Raise a story Worthy an immortal pen: So Charles God blesse, Our Queen no lesse, And in conclusion of my Song, I wish that man without a tongue That will not say Amen.
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