The Crowne of All Homers Workes/To the Moone

by Homer

 

To the Moone.

he Moone, now Muses, teach me to resound,
Whose wide wings measure such a world of ground.
Ioues Daughter, deckt with the mellifluous Tongue;
And seene in All, the sacred Art of Song.
Whose deathles Brows, when shee from Heauen displaies,
All Earth she wraps vp, in her Orient Raies.
A Heauen of Ornament in Earth is rais'd,
When her Beames rise. The subt'le Ayre is sais'd
Of delicate splendor, from her Crowne of Gold;
And when her siluer Bosome is extoll'd,
Washt in the Ocean; In Daies equall'd Noone,
Is Mid-night seated: but when shee puts on
Her farr-off-sprinckling-Luster-Euening weedes;
(The Moneth in two cut: her high-brested Steedes,
Man'de All with curl'd flames; put in Coch and All,
Her huge Orb fill'd) her whole Trimms Then exhall
Vnspeakable splendors, from the glorious skie.
And, out of that State, Mortall Men implie
Many Prædictions. And, with Her then
(In Loue mixt) lay, the King of Gods and Men;
By whom, (made fruitfull) she Pandæa bore,
And added her State, to th'immortall Store.
Haile, queene, & Goddesse, th'iuorie-wristed Moone
Diuine, Prompt; faire-hayr'd. With thy grace begun
My Muse shall forth, and celebrate the praise
Of Men whose states, the Deities did raise
To Semideities: whose deedes t'endlesse Date
Muse-lou'd, and sweete-sung Poets celebrate.

 

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