Tixall Poetry.
67
To
The Faire Indian
of
Amersford.
New mome of beauty, fled from East,
T' enlighten and inrich our West:
Bright starr, in whose compendious flame
Are all the goods your sunne can frame:
Say, fairest, (ah, doe not repine
To tell our world some newes of thine,)
What spice, what gold, what ieuells' light
Inioy thy Indys since thy flight?
Confesse (thers none pursues thee heere,)
What brought you thence? what left you there?
T' enlighten and inrich our West:
Bright starr, in whose compendious flame
Are all the goods your sunne can frame:
Say, fairest, (ah, doe not repine
To tell our world some newes of thine,)
What spice, what gold, what ieuells' light
Inioy thy Indys since thy flight?
Confesse (thers none pursues thee heere,)
What brought you thence? what left you there?
