LAURENCE KEYMIS ad. 



1596. 

 Like to Joves Eagle on Elizas hand. 

 Guiana, whose rich feete are mines of golde, 

 Whose forehead knockes against the roofe of Starres, 

 Stands on her tip-toes at faire England looking, 

 Kissing her hand, bowing her mightie breast, 

 And every signe of all submission making, 

 To be her sister, and the daughter both 

 Of our most sacred Maide : whose barren nesse 

 Is the true fruite of vertue, that may get, 

 Beare and bring forth anew in all perfection. 

 What heretofore savage corruption held 

 In barbarous Chaos ; and in this affaire 

 Become her father, mother, and her heire. 



Then most admired Soveraigne, let your breath 



Goe foorth upon the waters, and create 



A golden world in this our yron age. 



And be the prosperous forewind to a Fleete, 



That seconding your last, may goe before it 



In all successe of profite and renowme : 



Doubt not but your election was divine, 



(Aswell by Fate as your high judgement ordred) 



To raise him with choise Bounties, that could adde 



Height to his height ; and like a liberall vine, 



Not onely beare his vertuous fruite aloft. 



Free from the Presse of squint-eyd Envies feete, 



But decke his gracious Proppe with golden bunches. 



And shroude it with broad leaves of Rule oregrowne 



From all blacke tempests of invasion. 



Those Conquests that like generall earthquakes shooke 

 The solid world, and made it fall before them. 

 Built all their brave attempts on weaker grounds, 

 And lesse perswasive likelihoods then this ; 

 Nor was there ever princely Fount so long 

 Powr'd forth a sea of Rule with so free course. 

 And such ascending Majestie as you : 

 Then be not like a rough and violent wind, 



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