A royal nymph there was of Tyrian race,
A Moor, indeed, but formed with every grace,
Her native colour knew; yet fate denied
Indulgence equal to her beauty’s pride.
Filled with ambitious thoughts she pressed to know
What gifts the gods would on her charms bestow.
Ravished she heard the ambiguous priest declare
She should a crown and purple garments wear;
Fancied that hence a kingdom must arise,
Deceived by words and flattering prophecies.