1. Sublimer Thoughts inspire my Breast;
My Tongue, in softest Notes, to sing,
Runs like a ready Writer's Pen,
A Poem sacred to the King.
2. There's none of all the Sons of Men
Can with thy matchless Form compare;
Ail Grace into thy Lips is pour'd.
Thee ever bless'd, doth God declare.
3. Gird then, O thou victorious Prince,
Thy conqu'ring Sword upon thy Thigh;
Appear, in all thy glorious State,
Adorn'd with royal Majesty.
4. In all thy Pomp, ride prosp'rcus on.
The Truth, Meekness, and Righteousness;
Strongly assert, and thy Right-hand
Shall teach Thee Wonders to express.
5. Thy pointed Arrows wing their Way,
And peirce the stubborn Hearts of those
That set themselves against the King;
They fall, subdu'd, who were thy Foes.
6. Thy Throne, O God, thro' ev'ry Age,
Forever unremov'd shall stand;
Thy righteous Laws, and righteous Works,
Confirm the Scepter in thy Hand.
7. Thou Justice lov'st, and hatest Sin;
God, therefore, thine own God, hath shed,
Above what all thy Fellows claim,
The Oyl of Gladness on thy Head.
8. Myrrh, Aloes, and Cassia,
Their Perfumes to thy Robes impart,
As thou from th' Iv'ry Palace cam'st;
Whose fragrant Smell rejoice thy Heart.
9. The Queen, in well-wrought Ophir's Gold,.
Fair Bride, is plac'd at thy Right-hand;
Kings Daughters, in her splendid Train,
As Maids of Honour, waiting,stand.
10. O Daughter hearken, and attend.
And to my Words encline thine Ear;
Thy native Land, and Friends, forget,
Thy Father's House, and Kindred dear.
11. So shall the King, with thy fresh Charms,
But have his Love enflam'd the more;
For he is now thy Head, thy Lord,
Him therefore worship, and adore.
12. The Tyrian Daughters shall approach.
And lay their Off'rings at thy Feet;
The wealthy Nations, with their Gifts;
Thy Royal Favour shall entreat.
13. The King's fair Daughter's glorious,
In all Accomplishments Divine;
Her Garments wrought with Phrygian Skill,
With purest Gold, illustrious shine.
14. Thus, to the King, in nuptial Robes,
By th' artful Needle curious wrought,
With Fellow-Virgins foll'wing her,
She shall, in royal Pomp, be brought.
15. Thro' shouting Crowds, and Peals of Joy,
In State moves on the glitt'ring Train,
Till the King's Palace them receive;
And nought but endless Joys remain.
16. From thee, a num'rous royal Race,
Shall, in thy Fathers Stead, descend;
Whose Fame, as mighty Princes, shall
Thro' universal Earth extend.
17. This Song shall spread thy great Renown,
Thro' ev'ry Age, O glorious King;
And Nations shall, while Time does last,
In Consort joyn, thy Praise to sing.
|First Line:||Sublimer Thoughts inspire my Breast|