Angeli

You blessed spirits that bestow,
For every good or bad intent
Throughout our Universe below,
Either reward, or punishment;
You that instruct th'industrious sphears
(Your schollars) in a harmony
Which doth as far exceed the eares
Of man, as they transcend the eye.
Teach them to praise the power to whom all sue,
By the same lesson that they learne of you.

Sol

Thou universall Paint, whose light
Alone all beauty doth dispose,
Who on the Lilly spreadst the white,
And the Carnation on the Rose:
Great Painter of this solid frame,
Whose luminous pencils guild the earth
And water; to whose radiant flame
All shape and colour ow their birth.
In a new Hymne the worlds great Author praise,
Of which thou drawst the picture by thy raies.

Luna

Thou that amidst the darkest night
Dost entertaine a lesser day,
Expecting till the King of light
Drive the obscurer shades away;
Bright Regent of one halfe oth'yeare,
Whose secret influence doth cause
The Oceans flux, which learnes to beare
The weight of thy uncertaine lawes.
Praise him who gives thy weaknesse strength to guide
By hidden power, the Seas obsequious Tide.

Stellae

Roses of gold on azure sowne,
You sparkling Jewels of the night,
Who silently encamp unknown,
Your squadrons in their Tents of light;
Whom the Militia of the Skyes
In severall factions doth bestow,
To kindle war, which spreading, flies
Throughout our lesser world below.
Praise him by whom you shall at last be thrown
To earth, and forc'd to lay your bright arms down.

Lumen

Soul of the Sun, and life of sight,
That dost the 'namild heav'ns adorn,
Though sensibly, yet subtly bright,
Smile of the early rising morn;
Whose soft impression farre all art
Exceeds, or strongest violence;
Esteem'd of a corporeal part
An incorporeal effluence.
Praise him to whom thou dost thy being ow,
And from whose light, thy fountain, thou dost flow.

Caeli caelorum

Great Palace of the Empiree,
Of which the spheares are the foundation,
The walls of glasse, a fluid sea,
Eternity thy long duration:
Which with harmonious aires dost ring,
Compos'd by thy most sacred quire,
Whose life is musick, and to sing,
The only beeing they desire.
Praise him, and if spirits can vanquisht be
By Bodies, let those Angells yeild to thee.

Aquae super caelos

Waters that by mysterious skill
Are plac'd above this arch of pleasure,
Whose carefull concave doth not spill
One drop of this their liquid treasure;
Conservatory beyond art,
Waves which above your bridge do flow,
And to your Neighbour flames impart
No cold, nor from them heat do know;
In his just praise, with all his workes conspire,
Whose power can water reconcile to fire.

Dracones

Dragons who natures souldiers are,
Furnish'd as soon as borne, with armes,
Whose martiall industry our care
Resists, and counterchecks your harmes,
Fear'd monsters both of earth and aire,
Dwelling in either element,
Who such a deadly poyson beare,
As but it selfe nought can prevent.
That great Physitian praise, who doth reveale
An art, which teacheth the disease to heale.

Abyssi

You dark Abysses of the Maine,
Whose soundlesse depths the fuell hide,
That earth doth in her womb retaine,
Mixt with the waves in yours reside,
Who treacherously the wealth devoure,
Which fooles commit unto your care,
And in whose cavernes, made by power
Of winds, your dead waves buried are.
Praise that profounder skill, which by strong chaines,
You in the prison of your selves restraines.

Ignis

Fire, which above the aire hast seat,
And dost both light, and lightnesse wear;
So plac'd, as if thy subtle heat
Did purify pale Cinthia's spheare:
Thou sea, whose bright waves ebbe and flow,
Swift as the spheares by which they move,
Whilst the small fires that dwell below,
Direct their flames to you above.
Praise his divincr power, who plac'd your throne
Of light so neare the glory of his owne.

Grando

Unwelcome Tempests, that annoy
The hopefull treasure of the yeare,
And often ravish, or destroy
The Virgin pride our flowers do weare,
Who first as messengers, conveigh
The just displeasure of the skies,
Then melting into teares, away,
Weep for the crimes which you chastize.
Praise that great God, who can the Tempest vaile
Of his displeasure, in a Storme of haile.

Nix

Wooll, which Celestiall art hath made,
And knit into one ornament,
And like rich Tapistry displaid
Upon the smoother plaines extent;
Ivory, whose hardnesse, unknown skill
Doth render tractable as silk;
A floud, whose solid streames distill
From melted pearles, or frozen milk.
Praise that diviner power, who of so light
A vapour, hath a body made so bright.

Glacies

Thou childe of water, whose brow wears
The image of our vanitie,
And melting back again in tears,
Thy mother is new born of thee:
Thou Chrystall signet that dost seal
The folds which on the waves do ly,
And rivers as away they steal,
Dost stop, and with cold fetters ty.
That Chimist praise, who doth all tempers mix,
And can the fluid state of water fix.

Spiritus procellarum

You mutinous causes of those wars
That wrinckle the smooth face oth'deep,
Greedy, or curious passengers
Betraying to eternall sleep:
Sighs, which the winds to those bequeath,
Are tost upon these watry graves;
You, who by power of your rough breath,
Levell the earth, and plough the waves.
Praise him who doth your forces disunite,
The God of peace, who forceth you to fight.

Montes et Colles

You Mountaines, whose proud heads defy
The fury of the troubled aire,
Whose Bases still unshaken ly,
Nor winds can move, nor stormes impaire:
And lesser hills, whose smooth tops yield
Pastimes to swaines, who there resort,
Striving in beauty with the field,
Where wanton flocks both feed and sport.
Joyn in this hymne, that his great power may be
Prays'd equally, in inequalitie.

Ligna fructifera Cedri

Pleasant and fertile trees that bear
What may both sight and taste invite,
And with the riches of the year,
All sences equally delight,
Exalt your humble tops, and joyne
With the proud Cedars in this praise,
To celebrate that power divine,
Who from the earth you both did raise.
That in this pious strife, both win the field,
Cedars to shrubs, shrubs may to Cedars yield.

Bestiae Pecora

Beasts, who your humble being owe
To a materiall forme alone,
Whose hidden natures neither know
Reason, nor are to reason knowne;
You that are circumscib'd by lawes,
Ty'd to the fetters of your sence,
And rank'd beneath the freer cause
That can with those dull chaines dispence.
In a new hymne, praise those diviner powers,
And act mens parts, who act so often yours.

Serpentes

Serpents, who can the shapes you weare
Into a living Lab'rinth wind,
Retiring to dark dwellings, where
None but your selves the way can finde:
Who by the poyson you distilld
Into your first fore-fathers brest
The soules of our whole species killd,
And did of innocence devest.
Praise him who can your subtle curles unwinde,
And your deserted mansions track and finde.

Volucres

You winged Choristers, that dwell
In woods, and there maintain a Quire,
Whose musick doth all art excell;
Nor can we ae'm'late, but admire,
You living galleys of the aire,
That through the strongest tempest slide,
And by your wanton flight, who dare
The fury of the winds divide.
Praise him, and in this harmony and love,
Let your soft Quire contend with that above.

Reges et Populi

Kings, whose just power the heavens dispence,
Not by lesse power to be contrould,
Praise that celestiall influence,
Which of your glories is the mould;
And you who seated are below,
Taught even by nature to obey,
His praise in your obedience shew,
To their divinely ordered sway;
And as his name shall celebrated be,
Let high and low compose one harmonie.

Judices

You Oracles of heavens decrees,
Who by the curb, and scourge of law,
Which to your trust committed lies,
Keep the inferiour world in awe,
Who with impartiall justice weigh
The crime and punishment of vice,
And by an unresisted sway,
Reward the good, the bad chastize.
Praise that great Judge, to whom all knees must bow,
And him that duty pay, which we to you.

Juvenes

You buds of humane nature, who,
By the progression of your years,
Disclose those glories, which in you
(By your great Master hid) appears;
You the first copies of mankinde,
To whom that hand's exacter art
By which you were at first design'd
Doth still new light and shade impart.
Praise that great power, who the mysterious wayes
Of Nature thus from day to day displayes.

Virgines

You happy Virgins, that retaine
The image of divinitie,
And carefully preserve from staine
That sacred first impression free:
You who the easy breasts inflame,
Of all that subject are to sence,
And do a double pureness claime,
Of beauty, and of innocence.
Praise that great Deity, whom all implore,
And those bright glories we in you adore.

Senes

Old men, whose weak decaying frames
The spoils and ruines are of time,
Whose neere-expiring lease he claims,
And will ere long be due to him:
You drooping swans by age dyde white,
Bowd with its weight; who shortly must
To a new dwelling take your flight,
Resolv'd into forgotten dust.
Praise that great God, who gave, and takes your breath,
And like true swans, go singing to your death.