To our deare sister sad Melpomene,
That she her sweet patheticke voice may frame
In dolefull dittie to condole the same:
I onely here in high heroick streine,
Do striue to sing of her triumphant reigne.
5.
Ioue looking downe, from his celestiall throne
With eies of pitie on poore England’s woes,
Did lend her helpe, when hope of helpe was none,
And in his mercy did his power oppose