To the Duke of Buckingham at his returne from Spaine

My Lord, that you so welcome are to all;
You haue deseru'd it, neuer could there fall
A fitter way to prooue you highly lou'd,
Then when your selfe you from our sights remou'd:
The clouded lookes of Brittaine sad appeare,
Vuith doubtfull care (ah who can bridle feare!)
For their inestimable gemme perplext;
The good and gracefull Buckingham is next
In their desires: they to remembrance bring
How oft, by mediation with the King
You mitigate the rigour of the lawes,
And pleade the orphans and the widowes cause.
My Muse, which tooke from you her life and light
Sate like a weary wretch, whome suddaine night
Had ouerspred: your absence casting downe
The flow'rs, and Sirens feathers from her crowne,
Your fauour first th' anointed head inclines
To heare my rurall songs and reade my lines:
Your voyce, my reede with lofty musick reares
To offer trembling songs to Princely eares.
But since my Sou'raigne leaues in great affaires
His trusty seruant, to his Subiects pray'rs:
I willing spare for such a Noble end
My Patron and (too bold I speake) my friend.