XXX.

Art thou not Lucifer? he to whom the droves Of stars that gild the Morne, in charge were given? The nimblest of the lightning-winged loves, The fairest, and the first-borne smile of Heav'n? Looke in what pompe the mistrisse planet moves Rev'rently circled by the lesser seaven: Such, and so rich, the flames that from thine eyes, Opprest the common-people of the skyes.