Poem by William Drummond

Ora

NOR Arne, nor Mincius, nor stately Tiber,
Sebethus, nor the flood into whose streams
He fell who burnt the world with borrowed beams,
Gold-rolling Tagus, Munda, famous Iber,
Sorgue, Rhone, Loire, Garron, nor proud-banked Seine,
Peneus, Phasis, Xanthus, humble Ladon,
Nor she whose nymphs excel her who loved Adon,
Fair Tamesis, nor Ister large, nor Rhine,
Euphrates, Tigris, Indus, Hermus, Gange,
Pearly Hydaspes, serpent-like Meander,
The gulf bereft sweet Hero her Leander,
Nile, that far, far his hidden head doth range,
  Have ever had so rare a cause of praise,
  As Ora, where this northern Phœnix stays.

1. Like the Idalian Queen
2. Now While the Night Her Sable Veil Hath Spread
3. For the Baptist
4. Who Hath Not Seen into Her Saffron Bed
5. I Know That All Beneath the Moon Decays

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