Page:Madagascar, with other poems - Davenant (1638).djvu/39

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Madagascar.
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Whose Mother sure, was ravish'd in a dreame,By somes o're hot, lascivious Noone-day-beame;From whence, he cals himselfe, The wealth of sight,The Morn's Executor, the Heire of Light:And he, that thinks his rule extends so farre,He hopes, the former Three his Vassailes are:Compar'd to him, in Warre hee rates them lesse,Than Corporals; than Constables in peace:And hopes the mighty Presbiter stands bareIn rev'rence of his name, and will not dareTo weare (though sick) his purple Turband onWithin a hundred Leagues, of his bright Throne. These Mortall Gods, for traffique still disperseTheir envy'd wealth, throughout the universe;In Caracks, built so wide, that they want roomeIn narrow Seas; or in a Iunck, whose wombeSo swels, as could our wonder be so mad,To thinke that Boats, or Ships their sexes had;Who them beheld, would simply say; sure theseAre neere their time, and big with Pinnaces:Yet though so large, and populous, they allMust tribute pay, unto thy Admirall.

Now

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