The Moon

O How the faire Queen with the golden maids,
The Sun of Night, thy happy fortunes aids;
Though turban'd Princes for a Badge her weare,
To them she waine, to thee would full appeare;
Her Hand-maid Thetis dayly walkes the round
About thy Delos that no force it wound,
Than when thou leftst it, and abroad didst stray,
(Deare Pilgrim) she did straw with flowers thy way,
And turning forraine force and counsell vaine,
Thy Guard and Guide return'd thee home againe;
To thee she Kingdomes, Years, Blisse did divine,
Quailing Medusas grim Snakes with her shine,
Beneath thy raigne Discord, (fell mischiefes forge,
The bane of Peoples, State, and Kingdome Scourge)
Pale Envy (with the Cocatrices eye,
Which seeing kills, but seen doth forthwith dye:)
Malice, Deceit, Rebellion, Impudence,
Beyond the Garamants shall pack them hence,
With every Monster that thy Glory hates,
Thus Heavens decree, so have ordain'd the Fates.