OURANIA: The High and Mighty Lady the Princess Royal OF AURANGE CONGRATULATED On Her Most Happy ARRIVAL September the 25 th. M.DC.LX.
SUre
Darling Fortune humour'd thy sweet mind
In thy most safe Recesse, 'twas hugely kind
To take thee from our black tempestuous Times,
And place thee in Serener quiet Climes.
Bright
Guardian Angel, since you fled from hence
W' have lost our Vertue and our Innocence;
W'have lost our
peace, w'have lost your
father too,
And all's imputed to our want of You.
Nay, while You staid to Complement the State
Death rudely parts Your Dear Triumvirate;
And being angry he might snatch no more,
He rav'd and
Storm'd to keep you from our Shore,
But
Neptune felt our sighs more then the weather
Who'd bear your
greatness and our
grief together.
Welcome
Halcyon Lady as the Dove
That the Old Worlds recovery did prove,
But where's the Branch the Royal
Orange Sprig
To give assurance that the Plant doth live;
(Since wars hot beams scorcht not that delug'd
Not a ripe
Orange can again be found. (ground,)
Thrice welcome to our tossed shatter'd Ark
Thou Star that lightst thy Brothers in the dark:
Castor and
Pollux borrow'd
Leda's rayes,
Her lustrous lightning made their night be dayes.
What did they suffer not! what she not doe!
Hard hearted Fate doth love and fain would woe!
Oh such Widdow such a Turtle Mate
Would put robb'd Nature to a new Create;
Set the great pair together, Her and Mother,
No Name or Glory will be left another:
Go seek in vain for such a Loyal Love,
'Tis gone to Heav'n and interchang'd above.
Yet like a kindly vapour drawn from Earth,
That gratefully discends to ripe her Birth,
So her affections Mounted upwards, run
Fruitfully down upon the Prince her Son;
Here Love like
Janus has a double Face
One would not serve
Great Mary full of
Grace.
So many great relations ne're met
Proportion'd wisdome and a minde so fit.
Now th' Happy Constellation appears
The gladdest light e're blest the
English Spheres,
We have forgot the miseries are past
Since your sweet Influ'nce overtook the last.
Disquiet dare not stirre nor Rebel hand
Move but a finger, You secure the Land.
'Tis the Kings peace we keep, and to him due,
But our Tranquility we owe to you.
O Land of Wonders, what's yet to be seen!
Your Princely Sister and your Mother Queen.
LONDON, Printed by W. Godbid. 1660.