Great Goddesse to whose throne in Cynthian fires,
This earthlie Alter endlesse fumes expires,
Therefore, in fumes of sighes and fires of griefe,
To fearefull chances thou sendst bold reliefe,
Happie, thrise happie, Type, and nurse of death,
Who breathlesse, feedes on nothing but our breath,
In whom must vertue and her issue liue,
Or dye for euer.

Line 1. - The Shadow of Night - Hymnus in noctem