Hymne XI: To the Sunne

Eye of the world, fountaine of light,
Life of day, and death of night,
I humbly seeke thy kindnesse:
Sweet, dazle not my feeble sight,
And strike me not with blindnesse.

Behold me mildly from that face,
Euen where thou now dost runne thy race,
The Spheare where now thou turnest;
Hauing like Phaeton chang'd thy place,
And yet hearts onely burnest.

Red in her right cheeke thou dost rise;
Exalted after in her eyes,
Great glorie there thou shewest:
In thother cheeke when thou descendest,
New rednesse vnto it thou lendest,
And so thy Round thou goest.