England and France,
Hand-in-Hand:
Triumphing, for the happy & Royall Contract
of Mariage, made betweene the High and Mightie, CHARLES,
Prince of Great BRITTAINE, and the most excellent Princesse of France,
Madame HENRICA MARIA, Sister to LEWIS the
thirteenth King of France.
|
ENgland and France, that have through all the Reignes,
|
Of our past Kings, strove to be Sovereignes
|
Over each other, and (to beare the sway
|
Of Conquest) have seene many a bloody day.
|
Now hand in hand, Bride-groome and Bride are come,
|
Like two new Starres, to comfort Christendome.
|
Both Nations dance for joy, of this glad houre,
|
Which on their heads with golden blessings shower,
|
And make them spred like goodly-thriving Vines,
|
On whom the Sunne in his full beauty shines,
|
Peace, (who it'h Christian world lyes in a Trance)
|
Settles herselfe in England and in France,
|
And though abroad her walles the Cannons teare,
|
Yet (praise to Heaven) she hath her Sabaoth here.
|
How sweetly now the Red Rose and the White,
|
(Which in one branche two Kingdomes so unite)
|
Set by the Flowerdeluce of France, will grow
|
And stand like Princes planted in a row.
|
Great Charles, Prince of Great Brittaine, is more great
|
By this high match, his glories now compleat,
|
Henrica and Maria being one Name,
|
And join'd to Charles, build up the Noblest Frame
|
That ever Englishman that's now alive,
|
Or Frenchman saw. O may this building thrive:
|
Our English Lords, and the brave Monsieurs now,
|
Will parly with a smooth and friendly brow,
|
King JAMES his Court will to the French be knowne,
|
And theirs to us, as if it were our owne.
|
But what talke I of Complements and graces,
|
French Congies, or our English Court embraces,
|
These are but Sunny Mornings, going before
|
To tell that bright dayes, now shall blesse our shore.
|
The French and English who have ever beene,
|
Sworne Foes, sworne Friends will instantly be seene.
|
It has bene Englands Honour still to wed
|
With beauteous France, (hers being a Royall Bed)
|
France never brought more glory to her land,
|
Then when in Englands hand she claspt her hand.
|
Both Kingdomes Musicke strikes on golden strings,
|
We now shall see a Race of future Kings,
|
Come from this paire of Princes, this blest Paire,
|
In whom King JAMES beholds a long-liv'd Heire.
|
O happy is that Country where from heaven,
|
To the Kings children, is a blessing given,
|
To wed their equals, (Royall as they are,)
|
And then to sit in Thrones not shooke by warre:
|
When other Lands, are into cinders turnd,
|
The people drown'd in blood, their Citties burn'd,
|
Their Kings led Captives, and their Captaines slaine,
|
England and France, draw out a peacefull Reigne.
|
Plots of French mischeife, let us never feare,
|
For we shall have from them whats there most deare,
|
The Darling of great France, Europes best Gemme,
|
Fit onely for a Princes Diadem:
|
With her will all the Graces come along,
|
And those perfections follow in a throng
|
Which waite upon the Sister of a King,
|
France does to England her chiefe treasure bring.
|
Beauty, Youth, Honour, a rich Dower, sweet Peace,
|
MARY comes attended by all these.
|
And now thou faire Henrica (Pearle of France)
|
As wee above all Ladies thee advance,
|
For thy great Birth, rare Vertues, & high Worth,
|
(No Princesse bringeth goodnesse more set forth)
|
So, let thy country France on tiptoe stand
|
For joy our Great Charles holds thee hand in hand.
|
Search the world o're, there can no Prince be found
|
So excellent, with peoples loves so Crownd,
|
So sweete in feature, and so brave in minde,
|
Out-going all others, yet by none out-shinde;
|
Both Majesty and Love dwell in his Eyes,
|
His Love with spotles wing beyond-sea flyes,
|
But Majesty at home keepes her high Seate,
|
So shall the Noble Bride appeare more great.
|
No kingdome of itselfe can stand alone,
|
But helpt by neighbors, & then France ther's none
|
So fit, nor so familier, nor so neare,
|
Tomorrow there, and two daies after here,
|
O all you Angels, who to see this day,
|
Stand on Heavens Battlements in white array,
|
With Crowns of blessings held on every hand,
|
O, let them fall in fulnesse on this Land:
|
Confound each Powder-Mine, and treacherous Traines,
|
Dig'd, layd, and wrought by forrain divelish braines:
|
Let English Charles and the French Damsell heare,
|
Two mighty Nations thunder in their eare,
|
To her, shrill Aves, for her welcomes hither,
|
To him, loud Shouts, to see them Matcht together.
|
Reade o're our English Cronicles, 'twill appeare
|
That France hath ever kept her Weddings here,
|
And when our Kings have in a Warlike dance
|
Beene glorious there, they brought their Brides from France.
|
France Royall is in Kings, Princely in Peares,
|
Plenty hath in her Fields dwelt many yeares,
|
The Language to our Nation is so sweete,
|
Tis spoke and understood in every streete,
|
Many a merry Voyage shall wee make
|
To France, and they to us the like will take,
|
Such Narrow Seas runne betweene both the Lands,
|
Dover and Callis almost may shake hands:
|
Let then the Ayre Eccho with lusty peales,
|
Let our Thames leape for joy to heare our Bells,
|
Bonfieres call people forth, and let them sing,
|
England on France bestowes a Wedding Ring,
|
|
|
|
|
|