Hymne I: Of Astraea

Early before the day doth spring,
Let vs awake my Muse, and sing;
It is no time to slumber,
So many Ioyes this time doth bring,
As time will faile to number.

But whereto shall we bend our Layes?
Euen vp to Heauen, againe to raise
The Mayde, which thence descended
Hath brought againe the golden dayes,
And all the world amended.

Rudenesse it selfe she doth refine,
Euen like an Alchymist diuine,
Grosse times of Iron turning
Into the purest forme of gold:
Not to corrupt, till heauen waxe old,
And be refin'd with burning.