Triumph now with Ioy and mirth
The God of peace hath blest our land :
Wee enioy the fruites of earth
Through fauour of his bounteous hand.
We throgh his most louing grace
A King and kingly see beholde,
Like a son with lesser stars
Or carefull shepheard to his fold.
Triumph then, and yeelde him praise
That giues vs blest and ioyfull dayes.
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