A Pastorall Song, to the King on New years =
day. Ano Dni 1663.
Looke Shephards Looke, Old Janus doth unfolde
A glorious bright New yeare, & shutte the old.
Hast, hast you hither, all you gentle Swaynes,
That have or Flock or Heard upon these Playnes.
This is the greate preserver of your Bowndes,
To whome you owe all duties of your Growndes.
Your Milkes, your Fells, your Fleeces, & first Lambes,
Your teeming Ewes, as well as mounting Ramis.
His praises let’s report unto the Woodes,
That they may take it Ecchoed by the Floodes.
Chorus.
eccho eccho
’Tis he, O Pan, ’tis he
eccho
In chase of savage Beasts exceedeth hee.
eccho
His Pipe & voyce, with heavenly harmonie
Procures all Plenty & our Flocks encrease,
eccho eccho
He, only he, is Author of our peace.
2
Where e’re he goes upon the Ground
The better Grass, and Flowers are found,
To sweeter pastures leade he can,
Then ever Pales could or Pan,
He drives diseases from our fouldes,
The Thiefe from spoyle, his presence holdes
Pan knows no other power than his,
This only the great Shepheard is,
Chorus.
’Tis he, O Pan, &c:
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