Tortur’d with secret coals did melt;

The Persians call’d upon their Sun in vain,

Their God increas’d the pain.

They lookt up to their God no more,

But curse the beams they worshipped before,

And hate the very fire which once they did adore.

VI.

Glutted with ruine of the East,

She took her wings and down to Athens past:

Just Plague! which dost no parties take,