This page has been validated.
28
The First Book of
None of your charming Sisterhood (he said)
Have we beheld, or heard, oh! beauteous Maid.
Your Name, oh! Nymph, or oh! fair Goddess, say,
A Goddess sure, or Sister of the Day,
You draw your Birth from some immortal Line,440
Your Looks are heav’nly, and your Voice divine.
Tell me, on what new Climate are we thrown?
Alike the Natives and the Lands unknown!
By the wild Waves, and swelling Surges tost,
We wander Strangers on a foreign Coast.445
Then will we still invoke your sacred Name,
And with fat Victims shall your Altars flame.
No Goddess’ awful Name, she said, I bear;
For know, the Tyrian Maids, by Custom, here,
The purple Buskin, and a Quiver wear.450
Your Eyes behold Agenor’s Walls aspire;
The Punick Realms; a Colony from Tyre.
See!
