‘P OEMS .
Hail Royal Beauty, Virgin bright ~nd great, W ho do oar hopes fecure, olir joys compleat. W e cannot reckon what to you we owe, W ho make Him happy who tnakes us be fo. But Heav’n for us the defp t^'ate debt hath paid, W ho fuch a Monarch hath your Trophce made. A Prince whofe Vertue did alone fhbdue Armies o f Men, and o f Offences too. So good, that from him all our bleffihgs Row, Yet is a greater than he can beftow. So great, that he difpenfes llfeand d^ath, And Europe's fate depends upon his breath. (For Fortune in amends now courts him more Than ever fhe affronted him before: As Lovers that o f Jealoufie repent Crow trfiublefome in kind acknowledgment. J W ho greater courage fhew’d in wooing you, Than other Princes in theirbattels do. Never was Spain fo generoufly dcfi’d j Where they defign’d a Prev, lie courtsa Bride. Hence they may guefs whajt will his Anger prove, When he appear’d fo brave in making Love And be more wife than to provoke his Arms, W ho can fubmh to nothing but your Chatim.