Britanocles, the great and good appears,
His person fills our eyes, his name our ears,
‖: His virtue every drooping spirit cheers! :‖
Why move these princes of his train so slow,
As, taking root, they would to statues grow,
But that their wonder of his virtue turns them so!
’Tis fit you mix that wonder with delight,
As you were warmed to motion with his sight,
‖: To pay the expectation of this night. :‖
Move then in such a noble order here,
As if you each his governed planet were,
And he moved first to move you in each sphere.
O with what joy you’ll measure out the time!
Each breast like his still free from every crime,
Whose pensive weight might hinder you to climb.