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I.
Now the
peace is made at the foes rate,
Whilst men of armes
to kettles their old helmes translate,
And drinke in
caskes of honourable plate.
In ev'ry hand [let] a cup
be found,
That from all hearts a health may sound
To GORING! to GORING! see 't goe round.
II.
He
whose glories shine so brave and high,
That captive
they in triumph leade each care and eye,
Claiming
uncombated the victorie,
And from the earth to heav'n
rebound,
Fixt there eternall as this round:
To
GORING! to GORING! see him crown'd.
III.
To
his lovely bride, in love with scars,
Whose eyes
wound deepe in peace, as doth his sword in wars;
They
shortly must depose the Queen of Stars:
Her cheekes
the morning blushes give,
And the benighted world
repreeve;
To LETTICE! to LETTICE! let her live.
IV.
Give me scorching heat, thy heat, dry Sun,
That to this payre I may drinke off an ocean:
Yet
leave my grateful thirst unquensht, undone;
Or a full
bowle of heav'nly wine,
In which dissolved stars
should shine,
To the couple! to the couple! th' are
divine.
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