A PANEGYRICKE. 



The Drummes and Trumpets (Mars his melodic) 

 That wonted were to call thy foes to fight, 

 Shall now but call a friendly Company 

 (For honest ends) to feasting and delight. 



Glory of Wales, and luster of thy name, 



That giv'st to both sans Parralel'd renowne, 



Upon the Poles inscribed be thy Fame, 



That it to Worlds unknowne may still be knowne. 



i 



That they may say a Nooke but of an Isle 

 That North-ward lies, doth yeeld a rarer Man, 

 Then larger Lands by many a Thousand Mile, 



(a} What is Who can do (0) Thus, and will do what He can. 

 before ex- 

 pressed. 



But many Monarches, many Worldes have wonne, 

 Yet, with their Winnings have not wonne that praise 

 As this great-little Lord of hearts hath done, 

 For good-deedes done to These, and After-dayes. 



Now Envy swell, and breake thy bitter'st Gall 

 With ceaselesse fretting at these sweete Effects, 

 Th' eternall good which he intends to all 

 His Fame (well fenc'd) above a Foile erects. 



Liv'd He among the Pagans, they would make 

 () Like His glorious (U) Mansion some auspicious Starre ; 

 Mars, And make their Altars fume still for his sake 



< As to a God, to whome still bound they are. 



12 For 



