harp  
Mount Taraghs' Triumph. 5. july. 1626.  
To the tune of the Career.  

KIng Charles be thou blest, with peace and with rest;  
who caused this assembly hither.  
Welcome ye Peers, ye Earls of our Shires,  
ye Viscounts, and Barons together.  
Taragh the Mount, his joys doth account,  
being grated with your grateful presence.  
Nobles than all, at Falkland his call,  
to Charles' see you give your obeisance.   

Knights of great merits, generous of spirits,  
to Taragh youare welcome this day:  
Esquiers, and gentry, the force of our Country,  
so march on in battle array:  
Spirits of great worth, from the South to the North,  
whose hearts do to honour aspire,  
To stand with renown, for Charles and his Crown,  
is your only delight, and desire.   

The Squadrons appear, the Troops they Career,  
from the foot of the Hill, to the top:  
With force (like a flood, being mainly withstood)  
their courage endureth no stop.  
King Charles to thy Troops, the hill of Taragh stoops  
that long a Royal Mansion hath been:  
With Echoes in the skies, it shouts and it cries,  
long life to King Charles and his Queen.   

What can your foes, expect but your blows,  
and the force of your conquering hands?  
If they be bend, to take their event,  
to approach to your shores, or your sands;  
Back you will send them, or altogether end them:  
for the heavens and your right will uphold you:  
Captains why then, come marshal your men,  
As if Mars, or King Charles did behold you.   

Falkland behold, this Army most bold,  
most constant, and loyal of hearts;  
To make up their Forts, or to maintain their Ports,  
prepared to perform their parts:  
With hearts they do show such homage as they owe,  
and strait at a call do attend:  
King Charles his Pavilion against an armed Million  
of foes, they will stoutly defend.   

The Median-soyle, unpatient of the foil,  
is the heart of our native land;  
Mount Taragh of fame is the heart of the same  
whereon this Royal army doth stand:  
That heart, of her heart, with every other part,  
fair Ireland presents to her King,  
With Trumpets and Drums (not fearing for that 〈◊〉)  
King Charles his triumph let us sing.   

Ye Gentlemen and Squires, ye Knights of the Shires,  
your service with courage maintain:  
In every degree let noble Falkland see  
that your hearts, with your Prince do remain:  
Then will be relate unto the King and State,  
that Ireland breeds subjects most loyal,  
Ye Barons, Viscounts, Earls, give thanks to King Charles▪  
who caused this assembly most royal.   
FINIS.  
God save the King.   

Imprinted at Dublin,