The furious steed, the fife and drum
Invite you still to triumphs of the war,
‖: Till you as glorious shall become
On earth as Mars, in heaven as bright a star. :‖
‖: The balm’s rich sweat, the Myrrh’s sweet tears
Perfume your breath when you would passion move:
And may her heart, that you endears,
The centre be, her eye the sphere of love! :‖
And may your language be of force
To body winds, and animate the trees,
‖: So full of wonder your discourse,
Till all your guesses shall,
Till all your guesses shall be prophecies. :‖
May our three Gods so long conjoin,
To raise your soul, and rarify your sense,
Till you are rendered so divine,
’Twill be no sin ‖: t’implore your influence. :‖