VI.

" Ah sacred Ship, to Albion wasting Good,
Our Wish, our Hope, our Joy! who safe convey'd
Through perilous Sea, from Ila 's little Flood,
This Beauty's Paragon, this Royal Maid,
Isprung, Iwist, of high empyreal Seed;
The Child of Heaven, the Daughter of Delight,
Nurst by a Grace , with Milk and Honey fed!
Oh Frederick! oh, certes, blessed Wight,
To Whom the Gods consign the Nymph Augusta hight.

VII.

Ah sacred Ship! may favourable Gales,
The kindest Breath of Heav'n attend thy Way,
And swell the winged Canvass of thy Sails:
May Calmness be thy Path, and Pleasaunce lay
On the soft Bosom of the yielding Sea,
Where-e're thou Wind; or to the spicy Shore
Of Araby the blest, or Indias Bay,
Where Diamonds kindle, and the golden Ore
Flames into Purity, to deck Augusta more!

VIII.

Augusta , fairest Princess under Sky,
Welcome to Albion 's renowned Land,
Albion well known to thy great Ancestry,
Made dearer far to Thee by Hymen 's Band,
The Band of Love, of Honour and Command!
Deign to receive the Nations publick Voice,
Of Heartiness unfeign'd, who gleeful stand
In meet Array, and thus express their Joys
In Peals of loud Acclaim, and Mirths confused Noise.

IX.

With warmer Raptures, and more passionate,
Tho' hard to be! the Royal Youth , I trow,
Shall Thee embrace: Him tenfold Fires elate,
And sacred Passions in his Bosom glow,
Which from thy Picture erst began to flow.
For Thee He burns, for Thee He sighs and prays,
Pours out his Soul to Thee, nor Rest can know;
But dreams of Thee long, livelong Nights and Days,
By Beauty led thro' all Love's Rosy-Thorny-Ways.

X.

To heal his Pains soft Musick does divide
Most heavenly Melody in soothing Strains;
Nor heavenly Melody, nor aught beside,
Save Thee, ah Dearest Dread! can heal his Pains.
Thy Form too deeply in his Breast Remains.
So ever and anon He chides the Gales,
That slowly seem to brush the liquid Plains;
Oh! fly on all the Wings of Heav'n, ye Sails,
Oh fly! He crys; and lo! a Lover's Pray'r prevails.