The Thistle arm'd with vengeaunce for his foe

THE Thistle arm'd with vengeaunce for his foe,
And here the Rose, faire CYTHERAEAS flower;
Together in perpetuall league doe growe,
On whome the Heavens doe all their favours power;
For what th' Almighties holy hand doth plant,
Can neither cost, or carefull keeping want.

Magnifique PRINCE, the splendour of whose face,
Like brightest PHOEBVS vertue doth reviue;
And farre away, light-loathing vice doth chase,
These be thy Realmes; that vnder thee doe thriue,
And which vnite, GODS providence doth blesse,
With peace, with plentie, and all happines.