HARMONY

NEw-yeere, New-yeere! hark, harken to me, I am sent down To crown, Thy wishes, with me, Thy fair desires in Virtues Court are filed, The goodness of thy thought, This blessed work hath wrought, Time shall be reconcilde: Thy Spring shall in all sweets abound, Thy Summer shall be clear and found, Thy Autumn swell the Bairn and Loft, With Corn and fruits, ripe, sweet and soft, And in thy Winter, when all go, Thou shalt depart as white as Snow. Behold, behold, hark, harken to me, Glories come down, To crown Thy wishes, with me, Bright Heroes in lasting Honour sphered Virtues eternal Spring, (By making Time their King.) See, they're beyond Time reared. Yet in their love to humane good, In which estate themselves once stood, They all descend to have their worth Shine, to Imitation, forth: And by their Motion, Light and Love, To Show how after Times should move! Move on, Move on, be still the same, You Beauteous Sons of Brightness, You add to Honour Spirit and Flame, To Virtue, Grace, and Vhitenesse; You, whose every little motion May learn Strictness more Devotion, Every Pace, of that high worth, It treads a fair Example forth; Quickens a Virtue, makes a Story, To your own Heroic Glory. May your three times thrice Blessed Number Raise Merit from his Ancient S'umber; Move on, Move on, &c.