Mars

SOn of the Lion, thou of loathsome Bands
Shalt free the Earth, and what e're thee withstands
Thy noble paws shall teare, the God of Thrace
Shall be thy second, and before thy face,
To Truth and Justice, whilest thou Trophees reares,
Armies shall fall dismaid with Panick feares.
As when Aurora in skies azure-lists
Makes shadows vanish, doth disperse the mists,
And in a twinkling with her opall light,
Nights horrours checketh, putting stars to flight;
More to inflame thee to this noble taske,
To thee he here resigns his Sword and Caske,
A Wall of flying Castels, armed Pines
Shall bridge thy Sea, like heaven with steele that shines,
To aide earths tenants by foule yoaks opprest,
And fill with feares the great King of the West:
To thee already Victory displaies
Her garlands twin'd, with Olive, Oake, and Bayes,
Thy triumphs finish shall all old debates;
Thus Heavens decree, so have ordain'd the Fates.