She stretch'd her Arms to Heav'n, and fix'd her Eyes
On that fair Planet, that adorns the Skies;
Now by those Beams, said she, whose holy Fires
Consume my Breast, and kindle my Desires;
By him, who sees us both, and chears our Sight,
By him, the publick Minister of Light,
I swear that Sun begot thee; if I lye,
Let him his chearful Influence deny:
Let him no more this perjur'd Creature see;
And shine on all the World, but only me.
If still you doubt your Mother's Innocence,
His Eastern Mansion is not far from hence;
With little Pains you to his Levè go,
And from himself your Parentage may know.
With joy th' ambitious Youth his Mother heard,
And eager, for the Journey soon prepar'd.
He longs the World beneath him to survey;
To guide the Chariot; and to give the Day.
From Meroe's burning Sands he bends his Course,
Nor less in India feels his Father's Force:
His Travel urging, till he came in Sight;
And saw the Palace by the Purple Light.
The End of the First Book.
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