Burst Furth, My Muse, Too Long Thou Holds Thy Peace Poem by John Adamson

Burst furth, my Muse, too long thou holds thy peace,
Paint furth the passions of thy new-borne joy:
Forbear to sing thy lovelie layes a space;
Leave wanton Venus, and her blinded boy.
Raise vp thy voice, and now, deare Muse, proclaime
A greater subject, and a graver theame.

Since our much lov'd Apollo doth appeare
In pompe and pow'r, busked with golden rayes,
More brigt heir shyning on our hemispheare,
Nor that great planet father of the dayes;
With boldnes offer at his sacred shryne
These firstlings of thy weake and poore ingyne.

Great Iames, whose hand a thre-fold scepter swayes
By heavens exalted to so high à place,
Both crown'd with gold, and never fading bayes
Who keps three kingdoms in so still à peace,
Whose love, cair, wisdome, grace, & high deserts,
Have maid thee Monarch of thy subjects harts.

Thogh thou by armes great empyrs may'st surprise,
Mak Europ thrall, and over Asia reigne,
Yet at thy feet despysed, Bellona lyes:
No crownes thou craves which bloodie conqueis staine.
Whill others aime at greatnes boght with blood,
Not to bee great thou stryves, bot to bee good.

Whome snakie hatred, soule conceav'd disdaine,
Hart-rooted rancor, envy borne in hell
Did long in long antipathie detaine
To eithers ruine, as they both can tell,
Uniting them thou hast enlarged thy throne,
And maid devyded Albion All Bee one.

O heavenlie vnion! O thryse happie change
From bloodie broyles, from battells and debait,
From mischeifs, cruelties, and sad revenge
To love and peace, thou hes transformd our stait,
Which now confirmed, by thee before begunne
Shall last till earth is circuit with the Sunne.

Jov's great vice-gerent, Neptuns richest treasure,
Earths glorie, Europs wonder, Britanns pryde,
Thy wit (lyk heaven) in such a divyne measure
This litle world so happilie doth guyd;
That Caesar, Trajan, Pompey, Alexander,
If now they liv'd, the place to thee might rander.

What wants in the (O King) heavens could impairt?
Or what is in thee not of highest pryce?
A liberall hand, a most magnifick hart,
A readie judgment, and a prompt advyse,
A mynd onconquered fearcest foes to thrall,
Bright eye of knowledge: singular in all.

Thy waitchfull caire, thy zeale and fervent love,
The Church, the laye, each high or low estaite
Long-since by many worthie deeds did prove;
Bot most of all by these effects of laite.
For thou affects amongst thy high design's
To build the Sanctuarie of the King of Kings.

Heavens therefore did thy royall grandeur guaird;
Thy Royall person from the cradle keap'd
From thousand plots t'eclips thy Sunne prepair'd
By these who horror vpon horror heap'd
Their barbarous hands into thy blood to bathe,
And mak thee (guiltles) object of their wrathe.

Thogh Anaks cursed children did repyne;
Yet heavens made Josua over them prevaill:
Thogh hellish harts envyd'd thy glories shyne;
Yet in the practise their attempts did faill.
But loe, thy mercie still to be admir'd!
Thou spared them, against thee who conspyr'd.

For as in all thou second art to none,
To thee all Kings in clemencie give place.
Thryce happie people rul'd by such a one,
Whose lyfe both this and after-tymes shall grace:
Long may thy subjects, ere thy glasse outrunne,
Enjoy the light of thee their glorious Sunne.

What Load-stone strange had such attractive force
To draw thee home-ward to these northerne parts?
Whill Mars the world affrights with trumpets hoarse,
Broyls inhumaine devyding humane harts;
Whill Belgium braine-sick is, France mother-sick,
And with Iberian fyres the Alpes doe reik.

Most lyk that fishe, whose golden shape of late
Was to thee given, thy love to represent,
Which in the Ocean thogh shee doe grow great
And many foraine floods, and shelves frequet;
Yet not vnmyndfull of her native Burnes,
Thogh with great toyle, vnto them back returnes.

Rejoyce then, Scotland; change thy mourning weed;
Now deck thy selfe into thy best attyre:
And lyk a bryd advance thy chearfull head;
Enjoy with surfet now thy soules desyre;
Uncessantlie with sighs importune heaven
That thou may long enjoy this gift new given.

Welcome, O welcome thryse, our glorious guyd;
A thousand tymes this soyle doth thee salute,
Welcome, O welcome, Britanns greatest pryd,
By thee which happie doth it selfe repute.
Thogh all-where welcome; yet most welcome heir:
Long haunt thir bounds, ere thou from hence retire.

Heir plesant plain's alongst the crystall Clyd,
Which in a flowrie labyrinth her playes,
Heir blooming banks, heir silver brooks doe slyd,
Heir Mearle, and Maves sing melodious layes,
Heir heards of Deer defy the fleetest Hounds;
Heir wods and vail's, and Echoes that resounds.

Stay then, O stay, and with thy presence grace
That noble race, which famous by thy blood,
Long toyle and trouble glaidlie did embrace,
And wounded oft gusht furth à crimson flood,
In hazards great defending with renowne
The liberties, and glorie of thy Crowne.

But leaving more to entertaine thyn ear's
With airie accents, hoarse and homelie songs,
My solitarie Muse her selfe reteirs
Un-usd abroad to haunt such pompous throngs.
Sua renders place that after emptie words,
Thou may partack such as this soyle affords.