A Pastoral Copy presented to His MAJESTY at CAMBRIDGE, by a Nobleman of that UNIVERSITY.  
HAIL, mighty PAN! what Present shall we pay  
To your Auspicious Deity to day?  
We are the meanest of your rustic Swains;  
And have no other Palace but our Plains.  
Untaught in Courtly Gallantry we come  
To give the entertainment of our home.  
Part of the poor increase our fortunes have,  
And that besides, your kind indulgence gave.  
Those bashful Nymphs, our Muses, blush to see,  
A Train so gay attend your Deity.  
Whilst they clad in their homespun stuff scarce dare  
Look on the great procession, though from far.  
With what a trembling reverence their hands  
Cull all the choicest flowers that grace the Lands,  
To bind your brows with such an Ornament,  
As all their Artless consults could invent!  
'Tis you, Great Sir, that gives us peaceful days.  
One smile from you revives our dying Bays:  
For when th'appearing Bustles of the State  
Seemed to disturb our Studies, as of late,  
Under the spreading umbrage of your Oak  
We sat securely from the Thunderstroke.  
But now the powerful glory of your Crown  
Has forced the fond aspiring Vapours down;  
Has banished all the thickening mists afar,  
And once again has cleared the troubled Air.  
Now in the kinder Sunshine of your Reign,  
We'll bask ourselves, and feel new life again.  
We'll dedicate Solemnities to you,  
And all our ancient harmless sports renew.  
Upon the banks of aged Cam we'll sit,  
Whilst some kind covert, shades us from the heat.  
There on our Reeds we'll pipe unto the Groves,  
And make the watery Nymphs forget their Loves.  
The Current shall with gentle murmurs run,  
And pleased at its calm, smile on the Sun.  
The gentle Gales shall in soft Breezes sing,  
Amongst the listening Trees, God bless the King.   

LONDON: Printed for Richard Janeway, in Queens-head-Alley in Paternoster Row. 1681.