The Courtly Triumph.
Or, An Excellent New Song upon the CORONATION of
K. William and Q. Mary,
Which was Splendidly Celebrated on the 11th. of April, 1689.
To the Tune of, Cannons Roar.
Licensed according to Order.
|
SOund the Trumpet beat the Drum,
|
Boys, the Golden Age is come,
|
The true Fame of Christendom,
|
is William and Queen Mary;
|
Who by Providence is Crown'd,
|
Let their Actions be Renown'd,
|
While their Loyal Healths go round,
|
in Glasses of Canary.
|
Protestants has cause to pray,
|
That they may the Scepter Sway,
|
Purging Popery away,
|
and Romish Usurpation;
|
He that came to take our part,
|
While we felt Romes fatal smart
|
Let him Reign in e'ry heart,
|
through all this Land and Nation,
|
Now he is our Crowned King,
|
Under whose protecting Wing,
|
E'ry Soul may sweetly sing,
|
without Romes Molestation;
|
For we now have liv'd to see
|
This Land purg'd from Popery,
|
And the Royal Dignity,
|
of William's great Coronation.
|
Thousands Subjects did flock there.
|
And no Cost nor Charge wou'd spare,
|
To behold the Royal pair,
|
in their Renowned Station;
|
From the Noble to the Mean,
|
Joy in e'ry face was seen,
|
When our Gracious King and Queen,
|
was at their great Coronation.
|
From the Pallace all proclaim
|
Royal Dignity and Fame,
|
By the smiling Crowds that came
|
in each Degree and Station;
|
Noble Lords and Ladies gay,
|
Deckt in costly rich Array,
|
Came to Celebrate the Day
|
of William's great Coronation.
|
What was ever more Compleat,
|
How like moving Angels sweet,
|
Did they gently pass the Street,
|
to Grace this Consumation;
|
The great Courts in Europe fair,
|
Never could with this compare,
|
'Twas as if they all was there
|
at William's great Coronation.
|
Those that see their Princely Train,
|
Had not power to refrain
|
Wishing them a happy Reign,
|
without Dissimulation;
|
While the Musick soft and sweet,
|
did with hearty wishes meet,
|
Thus the Day we did Compleat
|
of William's great Coronation.
|
We Rejoyce, who lately Mourn'd,
|
Tears are now to Blessings turn'd,
|
None but Papists are Concern'd,
|
at this great Alteration:
|
Heavens bless'd this great Design,
|
By a Power most Divine,
|
Conduits freely run with Wine
|
at William's great Coronation.
|
He that might have liv'd at ease,
|
Cross'd the raging roaring Seas,
|
For religions Liberties,
|
in Protestant Protection,
|
While he does our Spirits chear,
|
Talbot he will quake for fear,
|
When he shall the Tydings hear
|
of William's great Coro[n]ation.
|
|
|
|
|
|