While as my rills enjoy'd thy royal gleams, They did not envy Tiber's haughty streams, Nor wealthy Tagus with his golden ore, Nor clear Hydaspes which on pearls doth roar, Nor golden Gange that sees the sun new born, Nor Achelous with his flowery horn, Nor floods which near Elysian fields do fall: For why? thy sight did serve to them for all. No place there is so desert, so alone, Even from the frozen to the torrid zone, From flaming Hecla to great Quinsey's lake, Which thy abode could not most happy make; All those perfections which by bounteous Heaven To divers worlds in divers times were given, The starry senate pour'd at once on thee, That thou exemplar mightst to others be. Thy life was kept till the Three Sisters spun Their threads of gold, and then it was begun. With chequer'd clouds when skies do look most fair, And no disordered blasts disturb the air, When lilies do them deck in azure gowns; And new-born roses blush with golden crowns, To prove how calm we under thee should live, What halcyonian days thy reign should give, And to two flowery diadems thy right; The heavens thee made a partner of the light. Scarce wast thou born when, join'd in friendly bands, Two mortal foes with other clasped hands; With Virtue Fortune strove, which most should grace Thy place for thee, thee for so high a place; One vow'd thy sacred breast not to forsake, The other on thee not to turn her back; And that thou more her love's effects mightst feel, For thee she left her globe, and broke her wheel.