There they in their trinall triplicities About him wait, and on his will depend, 65 Either with nimble wings to cut the skies, When he them on his messages doth send, Or on his owne dread presence to attend, Where they behold the glorie of his light, And caroll hymnes of love both day and night.

Great God of Might, that reignest in the mynd, And all the bodie to thy hest doest frame, Victor of gods, subduer of mankynd, 45 That doest the lions and fell tigers tame, Making their cruell rage thy scornfull game, And in their roring taking great delight, Who can expresse the glorie of thy might?

He suffers hunger and cold in winter, and heate and thirste in summer; he goes lowsie, he goes lame; he is not regarded; he is not rewarded; here only shines his glorie.

Thrice having seene under the heavens veale Your toombs devoted compasse over all, Thrice unto you with lowd voyce I appeale, And for your antique furie here doo call, The whiles that I with sacred horror sing Your glorie, fairest of all earthly thing!