A New yeares gift. To the King.

LOoke back old Janus, and survey
From Times birth, till this new-borne day,
All the successfull season bound
With Lawrell wreathes, and Trophics crown'd;
Turne o're the Annals past, and where;
Happie auspitious dayes appeare,
Mark'd with the whiter stone, that cast
On the darke brow of th'Ages past
A dazeling luster, let them shine
In this succeeding circles twine,
Till it be round with glories spread,
Then with it crowne our Charles his head,
That we th'ensuing yeare may call
One great continued festivall.
Fresh joyes in varied formes apply,
To each distinct captivitie.
Season his cares by day with nights
Crown'd with all conjugall delights,
May the choyce beauties that enflame
His Royall brest be still the same,
And he still thinke them such, since more
Thoucanst not give from Natures store.
Then as a Father let him be
With numerous issue blest, and see
The faire and God-like off-spring growne
From budding starres to Suns full blowne.
Circle with peacefull Olive bowes,
And conquering Bayes, his Regall browes.
Let his strong vertues overcome,
And bring him bloodlesse Trophies home:
Strew all the pavements, where he treads
With loyall hearts, or Rebels heads;
But Byfront, open thou no more,
In his blest raigne the Temple dore.