Chapter III

On _Æthiopia_, and the Southern-sands,
The unfrequented Coasts, and parched Land,
Whither the Sun too kind a heat doth send,
(The Sun, which the worst Neighbour is, and the best Friend)
Hither a mortal influence came,
A fatal and unhappy flame,
Kindled by Heavens angry beam.
With dreadful frowns the Heavens scattered here
Cruel infectious heats into the Air,
Now all their stores of poyson sent,
Threatning at once a general doom,
Lavisht out all their hate, and meant
In future Ages to be innocent,
Not to disturb the World for many years to come.
Hold! Heavens hold! Why should your Sacred Fire,
Which doth to all things Life inspire,
By whose kinde beams you bring
Each year on every thing,
A new and glorious Spring,
Which doth th’ Original Seed
Of all things in the Womb of Earth that breed,
With vital heat and quick’ning seed,
Why should you now that heat imploy,
The Earth, the Air, the Fields, the Cities to annoy?
That which before reviv’d, why should it now destroy?