AETHIOPIA

NIGER, be glad: Resume thy native cheer. Thy Daughters labors have their perjod here, And so thy errors. I was that bright Face Reflected by the Lake, in which thy Raze Read mystic lines; (which skill PITHAGORAS First taught to men, by a reverberate glass) This blessed Isle does with that TANIA end, Which there they saw inscribed, and shall extend Wished satisfaction to their best desires. BRITANIA, which the triple world admires, This Isle hath now recovered for her name; Where reign those Beauty's, that with so much fame The sacred MUSES Sons have honoured, And from bright HESPERUS to EOUS spread. With that great name BRITANIA, this blessed Isle Hath won her ancient dignity, and style, A World, divided from the world: and tried The abstract of it, in his general pride. For were the World, with all his wealth, a Ring, BRITANIA (whose new name makes all tongues sing) Might be a Diamant worthy to enchase it, Ruled by a SUN, that to this height does grace it: Whose Beams shine day, and night, and are of force To Blanch and AETHIOPE, and revive a Cor's. His light sciential is, and (passed mere nature) Can salve the rude defects of every creature. Call forth thy honoured Daughters, then; And let them, before the Britain men, Indent the Land, with those pure traces They flow with, in their native graces. Invite them, boldly, to the shore, Their Beauty's shall be scorched no more: This Sun is temperate, and refines All things, on which his radiance shines. I Nough, bright Nymphs, the night grows old, And we are grieved, we can not hold You longer light: But comfort take. Your Father, only, to the Lake Shall make return: Your selves with feasts, Must here remain the Ocean's guests. Nor shall this vail, the Sun hath cast Above your blood, more Summer's last. For which, you shall observe these rites. Thirteen times thrice, on thirteen nights, (So often as I fill my Sphere With glorious light, throughout the year) You shall (when all things else do sleep Save your chased thoughts) with reverence, steep Your bodies in that purer brine, And wholesome Due called Rosmarine: Then with that soft, and gentler foam, Of which the Ocean, yet, yields some, Whereof bright Venus, Beauty's Queen, Is said to have begotten been, You shall your gentler limbs over-lave, And for your pains, perfection have. So that, this night, the year gone round, You do again salute this ground; And, in the beams of yonder bright Sun, Your faces dry, and all is done.