Come servants, come bring forth the Sacrifize,
That I may pacifie that gloomie Jove,
Whose emptie Altars have enlarg'd our illes.
Eternall Jove, great master of the Clowdes,
Father of gladnesse, and all frollicke thoughts,
That with thy gloomie hand corrects the heaven,
When ayrie creatures warre amongst themselves:
Heare, heare, O heare Iarbus plaining prayers,
Whose hideous ecchoes make the welkin howle,
And all the woods Eliza to resound:
The woman that thou wild us entertaine,
Where straying in our borders up and downe,
She crav'd a hide of ground to build a towne,
With whom we did devide both lawes and land,
And all the fruites that plentie els sends forth,
Scorning our loves and royall marriage rites,
Yeelds up her beautie to a strangers bed,
Who having wrought her shame, is straight way fled:
Now if thou beest a pitying God of power,
On whom ruth and compassion ever waites,
Redresse these wrongs, and warne him to his ships
That now afflicts me with his flattering eyes.
