_'Tis true, and I would sing, but oh!
These wars have sunk my heart so low
'Twill not be rais'd._
DAMAN.
_What not this day?
Why 'tis the_ twenty ninth of May:
_Let_ Rebels _spirits sink; let those
That like the_ Goths _and_ Vandals _rose
To ruine families, and bring
Contempt upon our_ Church, _our_ King,
_And all that's dear to us, be sad;
But be not thou, let us be glad._
And, _Dorus_, to invite thee, look,
Here's a Collection in this Book,
Of all those chearful Songs, that we
Have sung so oft and merilie[1]
As we have march'd to fight the cause
Of _Gods Anointed_, and our _Laws_
Such Songs as make not the least ods
Betwixt us _mortals_ and the _Gods_:
Such Songs as _Virgins_ need not fear
To sing, or a grave _Matron_ hear.
Here's _love_ drest _neat_, and _chast_, and _gay_
As _gardens_ in the month of _May_;
Here's harmony, and _Wit_, and _Art_,
To raise thy _thoughts_, and chear thy _heart_.