The Ciprian's smyling, led our prince to Spayne,
Her husband's lightning welcomes him againe;
Love was but hoped for in a forrayne pairt,
He finds it burning heere in every heart.
As revells strange would waste the world away,
We burned the night, and heaven drown'd the day.
Juno and Venus onely frowne a space,
That Pallas now preferred of both takis place.
This day, like doomesday, flameing all with fyre,
To judge of secreets, too, will needs aspire;
What hopes and feares, did vpon it depend,
Which now dispayre or confidence must end.
But how comes this, that clouds ecclipse the spheares;
These showres, vnlesse of Joy, can not be teares;
The heavens, I think, of our hudge fyres affray'd,
Their violence in tyme by raine have it stayed.