A SONG FOR New Years Day.  
Licenced according to Order.  

I.  
BE kind, Great God of Time, be kind, and from  
The wealthy Treasury of Years to come,  
Cull out the whitest Minutes, those that swell  
With future Triumphs and Success,  
With gay Delight and Happiness,  
That laugh, and smile, and promise well.  
Appear, ye happy Minutes, all appear,  
That never disappoint the Hopes ye raise;  
And in your several Ranks of Hours and Days,  
Make up the gaudy Train of the approaching Year.   

II.  
See how the crowding Minutes press,  
And with a pleasing Tumult strive  
That happy Station to possess,  
By which they may the rest survive.  
For well they know, the coming Year  
Is big with Scenes of lasting Glory,  
With mighty Themes of future Story,  
And all the Moment's that appear,  
Which in that round shall jointly be  
Consigned to deathless Fame and Immortality.   

III.  
Bless me, What wondrous Object I descry!  
How bright a Prospect entertains my Eye!  
The teeming Particles of Time,  
At once their numerous Births disclose,  
And to my willing View expose  
Actions so Noble and Sublime:  
As do resistless Charms impart,  
And through my Sight, like Beauty, strike my Heart.  
Each bears the Stamp of Nassaw's Glorious Name:  
Nassaw the Great, the Just as well as Brave,  
Whose Guide is Honour, and Success his Slave;  
Danger his Pastime, and his Herald Fame;  
In whose blessed Fate the ravished World may see,  
Virtue and Fortune can sometimes agree:  
Cautious in Council, Vigorous in Fight;  
Secret as Darkness, Active as the Light.   

IV.  
What's this, ye Gods, I feel within?  
What sacred Fury has my Soul possessed?  
'Tis sure the Delphic God that entered in,  
And loosely Revels in my Breast.  
Hence ye Profane! No vulgar Ear,  
The Music Truths I tell must hear.  
Hark! Hark! I hear the British Lions roar,  
And with their Voices shake the gallic Shoar.  
See how the Seyne and Loire combine,  
To make their Streams outvie the Famous Boyne:  
Cressy, Poitiers and Agincourt no more  
Shall be esteemed in future Story,  
The utmost Marks of Albion's Glory.  
Nassaw does fresh Recruits of Honour bring,  
And France must bend once more beneath an English King.   

V.  
But when, ye Powers! when must his Labours cease?  
Must he still Toil to set the World at ease?  
When must he reap Love's quiet Joys,  
The peaceful fruit of Prosperous Arms?  
When indisturbed by Martial Noise,  
And frequent calls of shrill alarms,  
O'er-pay himself for all his Pains, with bright Maria's Charms?  
Maria formed by bounteous Heaven,  
To cancel all the mighty Debts we owe;  
The swelling Sums which hourly grow  
And make the Balance even.  
Whilst he abroad does like the Sun display  
His active Beams, and give to others day,  
She like the modest Regent of the Night  
Supplies his room, but not with borrowed Light,  
And fills the Throne with such successful Care,  
That scarce we miss the Mighty Nassaw there.  
Gladly the World her influence obeys,  
And sleeps secure beneath her watchful Rays.   

The grand Chorus.  
Ye Great Defenders of the Faith go on,  
As you that Title justly make your own;  
Whose sad Abuse the differing World before  
Did either laugh at or deplore:  
So Vindicate your other Titles too,  
By Merit more than Quality your due;  
Successfully your Glorious Arms advance,  
And be in Deed, as well as Name, the King and Queen of France.    

LONDON, Printed for R. Baldwin, 1692.