So well Britanocles o’er seas doth reign,
Reducing what was wild before,
That fairest sea-nymphs leave the troubled main,
And haste to visit him on shore.
What are they less than nymphs since each make show
Of wondrous immortality,
And each those sparkling treasures wears that grow
Where breathless divers cannot pry?
On ever moving waves they used to dance
Unto the whistling of the wind;
Whose measures hit and meet by erring chance,
Where music can no concord find.
But now for their majestic welcome try
How even and equally they’ll meet,
When you shall lead them by such harmony,
As can direct their ears and feet.
When you shall lead with harmony,
As can direct your ears and feet.