7
“We past the limit where, his southing done, Sol guides his chariot t’oward his northern goal; where lie the Races whence Clyméné’s son the clear bright colour of the daylight stole; Here laving strangest peoples loves to run black Sanagá in tropick summer cool; where th’ Arsenarium Cape its name hath lost, yclept Cape Verd by us that keep the coast.