Kind Ellenor though blacke by nature borne,
Made bounty (not her beauty) to adorne
Her new chang’d Pagan life (though vail’d by night
Of Romish shades) to shine on mee more bright,
Then Sun scorched Æthiope beames; Art-glancing spangles:
Or that Ægyptian Bird, mans sight intangles
With rarest colours: for her loving sight
Though black as pitch, gave me transparent light:
Food, and stolne-food, though little, yet enough;
(The finer soile, the ebber tilles the Plough,)