I.
First born of Chaos, who so far didst come,
From the old negro's darksome womb!
Which when it saw the lovely child,
The melancholly mass put on kind looks and smiled.
II.
Thou tide of glory, which no rest dost know,
But ever ebb, and ever flow!
Thou golden shower of a true Jove!
Who does in thee descend, and Heaven to earth make love!
III.
Hail active nature's watchful life, and health!
Her joy, her ornament and wealth!
Hail to thy husband heat, and thee!
Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty bridegroom he!
IV.
Say from what golden quivers of the sky,
Do all thy winged arrows fly?
Swiftness and power by birth are thine,
From thy great fire they came, thy fire the word divine.
V.
'Tis I believe this archery to shew
That so much cost in colours thou,
And skill in painting dost bestow,
Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heav'nly bow.