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His father followes: age and former paines
Had made him slower, yet he still retaines
His ancient vigour; and with much delight
To see his sonne do maruailes in his sight,
He seconds him, and from the branches cleaues
Those clusters, which the former vintage leaues.
Now Oxford flyes (as lightning) thro' his troupes,
And with his presence cheares the part that
droupes :

His braue endeuours Surrey's force restraine
Like bankes, at which the ocean stormes in vaine.
The swords and armours shine as sparkling coales,
Their clashing drownes the grones of parting soules;
The peacefull neighbours, who had long desir'd
To find the causes of their feare expir'd,
Are newly grieu'd, to see this scarlet flood,
And English ground bedew'd with English blood.
Stout Rice and Herbert leade the power of Wales,
Their zeale to Henry moues the hills and dales
To sound their country-man's beloued name,
Who shall restore the British off-spring's fame;
These make such slaughter with their glaucs and
hooks,

That carefull bardes may fill their precious bookes
With prayses, which from warlike actions spring,
And take new themes, when to their harpes they
sing.

Besides these souldiers borne within this ile,
We must not of their part the French beguile,
Whom Charles for Henry's succour did prouide,
A lord of Scotland, Bernard, was their guide,
A blossome of the Stuarts' happy line,
Which is on Britaine's throne ordain'd to shine:
The Sun, whose rayes the Heau'n with beauty

crowne,

From his ascending, to his going downe,
Saw not a brauer leader in that age;
And Bosworth field must be the glorious stage,
In which this northerne eagle learnes to flie,

And tries those wings, which after rayse him high,
When he, beyond the snowy Alpes renown'd,
Shall plant French lillies in Italian ground;
And cause the craggy Apennine to know,
What fruits on Caledonian mountaines grow.
Now in this ciuill warre, the troupes of France
Their banners dare on English ayre aduance,
And on their launces' points destruction bring
To fainting seruants of the guilty king;
When heretofore they had no powre to stand
Against our armies in their natiue land,
But melting fled, as wax before the flame,
Dismay'd with thunder of Saint George's name.

Now Henry with his vnkle Pembroke moues,
The rereward on, and Stanley then approues
His loue to Richmond's person, and his cause,
He from his army of three thousand drawes
A few choyse men, and bids the rest obay
His valiant brother, who shall proue this day
As famous as great Warwick, in whose hand
The fate of England's crowne was thought to stand:
With these he closely steales to helpe his friend,
While his maine forces stirre not, but attend
The younger Stanley, and to Richard's eye
Appeare not parties, but as standers by.
Yet Stanley's words so much the king incense,
That he exclaimes: "This is a false pretense :
His doubtfull answere shall not saue his sonne,
Yong Strange shall die: see, Catesby, this be done."
Now like a lambe, which taken from the folds,
The slaughter-man with rude embraces holds,

And for his throte prepares a whetted knife,
So goes this harmelesse lord to end his life;
The axe is sharpen'd, and the block prepar'd,
But worthy Ferrers equall portion shar'd
Of griefe and terrour which the pris'ner felt,
His tender eyes in teares of pity melt,
And hasting to the king, he boldly said:

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My lord, too many bloody staines are laid By enuious tongues vpon your peacefull raigne ; O may their malice euer spcake in vaine! Afford not this aduantage to their spite, None should be kill'd to day, but in the fight: Your crowne is strongly fixt, your cause is good; Cast not vpon it drops of harmelesse blood; His life is nothing, yet will dearely cost, If, while you seek it, we perhaps haue lost Occasions of your conquest: thither flie, Where rebels arm'd, with cursed blades shall die, And yeeld in death to your victorious awe : Let naked hands be censur'd by the law " Such pow'r his speech and seemely action hath, It mollifies the tyrant's bloody wrath, And he commands, that Strange's death be stay'd. The noble youth (who was before dismay'd At death's approching sight) now sweetly cleares His cloudy sorrowes, and forgets his feares: As when a steare to burning altars led, Expecting fatall blowes to cleaue his head, Is by the priest, for some religious cause, Sent backe to liue, and now in quiet drawes The open ayre, and takes his wonted food, And neuer thinkes how neere to death he stood. The king, though ready, yet his march delayd, To haue Northumberland's expected ayde. To him industrious Ratcliffe swiftly hies; But Percy greets him thus: "My troubled eyes This night beheld my father's angry ghost,

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Aduising not to ioyne with Richard's host:

Wilt thou,' said he, 'so much obscure my shield, To beare mine azure lion in the field

With such a gen'rall? Aske him, on which side
His sword was drawne, when I at Towton died.'”
When Richard knew that both his hopes were
He forward sets with cursing and disdaine, [vaine,
And cries: "Who would not all these lords detest?
When Percy changeth, like the Moone, his crest."
This speech the heart of noble Ferrers rent:
He answers: 66
Sir, though many dare repent,
That which they cannot now without your wrong,
And onely grieue they haue been true too long,
My brest shall neuer beare so foule a staine;
If any ancient blood in me remaine,
Which from the Norman conqu'rours tooke descent,
It shall be wholly in your seruice spent ;

I will obtaine to day, aliue or dead,

The crownes that grace a faithfull souldier's head."
"Blest be thy tongue," replies the king, "in thee
The strength of all thine ancestors I see,
Extending warlike armes for England's good,
By thee their heire, in valour as in blood."

But here we leaue the king, and must reuiew
Those sonnes of Mars, who cruell blades imbrue
In riuers, sprung from hearts that bloodlesse lie,
And staine their shining armes in sanguine die.
Here valiant Oxford and fierce Norfolke meet,
And with their speares each other rudely greete;
About the ayre the shiuered pieces play,
Then on their swords their noble hands they lay,
And Norfolke first a blow directly guides
To Oxford's head, which from his helmet slides

Vpon his'arme, and, biting through the steele,
Inflicts a wound, which Vere disdaines to feele;
He lifts his fauchion with a threatning grace,
And hewes the beuer off from Howard's face.
This being done, he, with compassion charm'd,
Retires, asham'd to strike a man disarm'd:
But straight a deadly shaft, sent from a bow,
(Whose master, though farre off, the duke could
know)

Vntimely brought this combat to an end,
And pierc'd the braine of Richard's constant friend.
When Oxford saw him sinke, his noble soule
Was full of griefe, which made him thus condole:
"Farewell, true knight, to whom no costly graue
Can giue due honour: would my teares might saue
Those streames of blood, deseruing to be spilt
In better seruice: had not Richard's guilt
Such heauy weight vpon his fortune laid,
Thy glorious vertues had his sinnes outwaigh'd."
Couragious Talbot had with Surrey met,
And after many blowes begins to fret,

That one so young in armes should thus, vnmou'd,
Resist his strength, so oft in warre approu'd.
And now the earle beholds his father fall;
Whose death like horrid darknesse frighted all :
Some giue themselues as captiues, others flie,
But this young lion casts his gen'rous eye
On Mowbray's lion, painted in his shield,
And with that king of beasts repines to yeeld:
"The field," saith he," in which the lion
Is blood, and blood I offer to the hands
Of daring foes; but neuer shall my flight
Die blacke my lion, which as yet is white."
His enemies (like cunning huntsmen) striue
In binding snares, to take their prey aliue,
While he desires t' expose his naked brest,
And thinkes the sword that deepest strikes is best.
Young Howard single with an army fights,
When, mou'd with pitie, two renowned knights,
Strong Clarindon, and valiant Coniers, trie
To rescue him, in which attempt they die ;
For Sauage, red with blood of slaughter'd foes,
Doth them in midst of all his troopes inclose,
Where, though the captaine for their safetie
striues,

1

Set England's royall wreath vpon a stake,
There will I fight, and not the place forsake:
And if the will of God hath so dispos'd,
That Richmond's brow be with the crowne inclos'd,
I shall to him, or his, giue doubtlesse signes,
That duty in my thoughts, not faction, shines."
The earnest souldiers still the chase pursue :
But their commanders grieue they should imbrue
Their swords in blood which springs from English
veines,

The peacefull sound of trumpets them restraines
From further slaughter, with a milde retreat
To rest contented in this first defeate.

The king intended, at his setting out,
To helpe his vantguard, but a nimible scout
Runnes crying: "Sir, I saw not farre from hence,
Where Richmond houers with a small defence,
And, like one guilty of some beynous ill,
Is couer'd with the shade of yonder hill."
The rauen, almost famisht, ioyes not more,
When restlesse billowes tumble to the shore
A heap of bodies shipwrackt in the seas,
Than Richard with these newes himselfe doth
He now diuerts his course another way, [please:
And, with his army led in faire array,
Ascends the rising ground, and taking view
Of Henry's souldiers, sees they are but few:
Imperiall courage fires his noble brest,
He sets a threatning speare within his rest,
stands,Thus saying: "All true knights, on me attend,
I soone will bring this quarrell to an end :
If none will follow, if all faith be gone,
Behold, I goe to try my cause alone."
He strikes his spurres into his horse's side,
With him stout Louell and bold Ferrers ride;
To them braue Ratcliffe, gen'rous Clifton, haste,
Old Brakenbury scornes to be the last :
As borne with wings, all worthy spirits flye,
Resolu'd for safety of their prince to dye;
And Catesby to this number addes his name,
Though pale with feare, yet ouercomne with shame.
Their boldnesse Richmond dreads not, but admires;
He sees their motion like to rolling fires,
Which by the winde along the fields are borne
Amidst the trees, the hedges, and the corne,
Where they the hopes of husbandmen consume,
And fill the troubled ayre with dusky fume.
Now as a carefull lord of neighb'ring grounds,
He keepes the flame from entring in his bounds,
Each man is warn'd to hold his station sure,
Prepar'd with courage strong assaults t' endure:
But all in vaine, no force, no warlike art,
From sudden breaking can preserve that part,
Where Richard like a dart from thunder falles :
His foes giue way, and stand as brazen walles
On either side of his inforced path,
While he neglects them, and reserues his wrath
For bin whose death these threatning clouds would
cleare,

Yet baser hands depriue them of their liues.
Now Surrey fainting, scarce his sword can hold,
Which made a common souldier grow so bold,
To lay rude hands vpon that noble flower;
Which he disdaigning, (anger giues him power)
Erects his weapon with a nimble round,
And sends the peasant's arme to kisse the ground.
This done, to Talbot he presents his blade,
And saith: "It is not hope of life hath made
This my submission, but my strength is spent,
And some, perhaps of villaine blood, will vent
My weary soule. this fauour I demand,
That I may die by your victorious hand."
"Nay, God forbid that any of my name,"
Quoth Talbot, "should put out so bright a flame
As burnes in thee, braue youth! where thou hast
It was thy father's fault, since he preferr'd [err'd,
A tyrant's crowne before the iuster side."
The earle, still mindfull of his birth, replied:
"I wonder, Talbot, that thy noble hart
Insults on ruines of the vanquisht part:
We had the right, if now to you it flow,
The fortune of your swords hath made it so:
I neuer will my lucklesse choyce repent,
Nor can it staine mine honour or descent;

Whom now with gladnes he beholdeth neerc,
And all those faculties together brings,
Which moue the soule to high and noble things.
Eu'n so a tyger, hauing follow'd long
The hunter's steps that robb'd her of her young :
When first she sees him, is by rage inclin'd
Her steps to double, and her teeth to grind.

Now horse to horse, and man is ioyn'd to man,
So strictly, that the souldiers hardly can
Their aduersaries from their fellowes know:
Here each braue champion singles out his foe,

In this confusion Brakenbury meetes

Thou hither cam'st, led by sinister falë, With Hungerford, and him thus foulely greetes : Against my first aduice ; yet now, though late, “ Ab, traytor ! false in breach of faith and loue, Take this my counsel." Clifton thus replied : What discontent could thee and Bourchier moue, " It is too late, for I must now prouide Who had so long my fellowes been in armes, To seeke another life: liue thou, sweet friend, To nie to rebels? What seducing charmes

And when thy side obtaines a happy end, Could on your clouded minds such darknesse bring, Vpon the fortunes of my children looke, To serue an out-law, and neglect the king ?” Remember what a solemne oath we tooke; ) With these sharpe speeches Hungerford, enrag'd, That he whose part should proue the best in fight, Tvphold his honour, thus the battaile wag'd : Would with the conqo’rour irie his vtmost mighr, " Thy doting age," saith he, “delights in words, To save the other's lands from rau'nous pawes, But this aspersion must be try'd by swords.” Which scaze on fragments of a lucklesse cause. Then leauing talke, he by his weapon speakes, My father's fall our house had almost dround, And driues a blow, which Brakenbury breakes, But I by chance aboord in shipwracke found. By lifting vp his left hand, else the steele

May neuer more such danger threaten wine : Had pierc'd his burgonet, and made him fecle Deale thou for them, as I would doe for thine." The pangs of death : but now the fury fell

This said, his senses faile, and pow'rs decay, Vpon the hand that did the stroke repell, While Byron calles : “Stay, worthy Clifton, star! And cuts so large a portion of the shield,

And heare my faithfull promise once againe, That it no more can safe protection yeeld.

Which, if I breake, may all my deeds be raine." Bold Hungerford disdaines his vse to make

But now he knowes, that vitall breath is fled, Of this aduantage, but doth straight forsake

And needlesse words are vtter'd to the dead; His massy target, render'd to his squire,

Into the midst of Richard's strength he flies, And saith : “ Let cowards such defence desire." Presenting glorious acts to Henry's eyes, This done, these valiant knights dispose their And for his seruice he expects no more And still the one he other's face inuades ; [blades, Than Clifton's sonne from forfeits to restore. Till Brakenbury's helmet giuing way

While Richard, bearing downe with eager mind To those fierce strokes that Hungerford doth lay, The steps by which his passage was confin'd, Is brus’d and gapes, which Bourchier, fighting

Laies hands on Henrie's standard as his prey, neare,

[beare, Strong Brandon bore it, whom this fatall day Percejues, and cries: “ Braue Hungerford, for- Markes with a blacke note, as the onely knight, Bring not those siluer baires to timelesse end, That on the conqu’ring part forsakes the light. He was, and may be once againe, our friend." But Time, whose wheeles with various motion But, oh! too late! the fatall blow was sent

runne, From Hungerford, which he inay now repent; Repayes this seruice fully to his sonne, But not recall, and digges a mortall wound Who marries Richniond's daughter, borne betreena In Brakenbury's head, which should be crown'd Two royall parents, and endowed a queene. With precious metals, and with bayes adorn'd When now the king perceiues that Brandon striue's For constant truth appearing, when he scorn'd To save his charge, he sends a blow that riges To staine bis hand in those young princes' blood, His skull in twaine, and, by a gaping hole, And like a rocke amidst tbe ocean stood

Giues ample scope to his departing soule ; Against the tyrant's charmes and threats vnmou'd, And thus insults: “ Accursed wretch, farewell! Tho' death declares how much he Richard lou'd. Thiue ensignes now may be display'd in Hell! Stont Ferrers aimes to fixe his mighty launce There thou shalt know, it is an odious thing, In Peinbroke's heart, which on tlie steele doth To let thy banner flie against thy king." glaunce,

With scorn he throwes tbe standard to the ground, And runnes in vaine the empty ayre to presse : When Cheney, for his height and strength reBut Pembroke's speare, obtaining wisht successe,

nown'd, Through Ferrers' brest-plate and his body sinkes, Steps forth to couer Richmond, now expos'd And vitall blood from inward vessels drinkes. To Richard's sword : the king with Cheney closd, Here Stanley, and braue Louel, trie their strength, And to the earth this mighty giant fefl'd. Whose equall courage drawes the strife to length; Then like a stag, wliom fences long with-held They thinke not how they may themselues defend, From meddowes, where the spring in glory raignes, To strike is all their care, to kill their end. Now hauing leuell'd those vnpleasing chaines, So meete two bulls vpon adioyning hills

And treading proudly on the vanquisht Rowres, Of rocky Charnwood, while their murmur fills He in his hopes a thousand joyes deuoures : The hollow crags, when, striuing for their bounds, For now no pow'r to crosse his end remaines, They wash their piercing hornes in mutuall But onely Henry, whom he neuer daines wounds.

To name his foe, and thinkes he shall not brang If, in the midst of such a bloody fight,

A valiant champion, but a yeelding slaue. The name of friendship be not thought too light, Alas ! how much deceiu'd, when he shall find Recount, my Muse, how Byron's faithfull loue An able body and couragious minde : To dying Clifton did it selfe approue :

For Richmond boldly doth himselfe oppose For Clifton, fighting brauely in the troope, Against the king, and giues him blowes for blowes, Receiues a wound, and now begins to droope : Who now confesseth, with an angry frowne, Which Byron seeing, though in armes his foe, His riuall not vnworthy of the crowne. In heart his friend, and hoping that the blow The younger Stanley then no longer staid, Had not been mortall, guards him with his shield The earle in danger needs his present aide, From second hurts, and cries : « Deare Clifton, which he performes as sudden as the light, yeeld ;

His comming tornes the balance of the

right:

So threatning clouds, whose fall the ploughmen feare,

Which long vpon the mountaine's top appeare,
Dissolue at last, and vapours then distill
To watry showres that all the valleys fill.
The first that saw this dreadfull storme arise,
Was Catesby, who to Richard loudly cries:
"No way but swift retreate your life to saue,
It is no shame with wings t' auoide the graue."
This said, he trembling turnes himselfe to flie,
And dares not stay to heare the king's replie,
Who, scorning his aduice as foule and base,
Returnes this answer with a wrathfull face:
"Let cowards trust their horses' nimble feete,
And in their course with new destruction meete;
Gaine thou some houres to draw thy fearefull
breath:

To me ignoble flight is worse than death."
But at th' approach of Stanley's fresh supply,
The king's side droopes: so gen'rous horses lie
Vnapt to stirre, or make their courage knowne,
Which vnder cruell masters sinke and grone.
There at his prince's foote stout Ratcliffe dies;
Not fearing, but despairing, Louell flies,
For he shall after end his weary life
In not so faire, but yet as bold a strife.
The king maintaines the fight, though left alone:
For Henrie's life he faine would change his owne,
And as a lionesse, which compast round
With troopes of men, receiues a smarting wound
By some bold hand, though hinder'd and opprest
With other speares, yet slighting all the rest,
Will follow him alone that wrong'd her first:
So Richard, pressing with reuengefull thirst,
Admits no shape but Richmond's to his eye;
And would in triumph on his carcase die:
But that great God, to whom all creatures yeeld,
Protects his seruant with a heau'nly shield;
His pow'r, in which the earle securely trusts,
Rebates the blowes, and falsifies the thrusts.
The king growes weary, and begins to faint,
It grieues him that his foes perceiue the taint:
Some strike him, that till then durst not come
neare,
[beare,
With weight and number they to ground him
Where trampled down, and hew'd with many
swords,

He softly vtter'd these his dying words:
"Now strength no longer fortune can withstand,
I perish in the center of my land."
His hand he then with wreathes of grasse infolds,
And bites the earth, which he so strictly holds,
As if he would haue borne it with him hence,
So loth he was to lose his right's pretence.

AN

EXPRESSION OF SIBYLL'S ACROSTICHS.
Is signe that judgement comes, the Earth shall

sweat:

E xpected times, behold the Prince, whose might
S hall censure all within his kingdome great:
V ntrue and faithfull shall approach his sight,
S hall feare this God, by his high glory knowne,

VOL VL

Combin'd with flesh, and compast with his saints.
His words diuiding soules before his throne,
Redeeme the world from thornes and barren taints.
In vaine then mortals leaue their wealth, and
sinne :
[tame:
S trong force the stubborne gates of Hell shail
The saints, though dead, shall light and freedome
winne :

So thriue not wicked men, with wrathfull flame
O pprest, whose beames can search their words and
deeds,

No darkesome brest can couer base desires,
New sorrow, gnashing teeth, and wailing breeds;
E xempt from sunny rayes, or starry quires,
O Heau'n, thou art roll'd vp, the Moone shall die,
From vales he takes their depth, from hilles their
height,

founds,

Great men no more are insolent and high:
On seas no nimble ships shall carry weight:
Dire thunder, arm'd with heat, the Earth con-
[restraine,
Sweet springs and bubbling streames their course
A heau'nly trumpet sending dolefull sounds,
V pbraydes the world's misdeeds, and threatens
paine,

In gaping Earth infernall depths are seene;
Our proudest kings are summon'd by his call
V nto his seate, from Heau'n with anger keene
R euengefull floods of fire and brimstone fall.

VIRGIL. ECLOG. IV.

CICILIAN Muses, sing we greater things,
All are not pleas'd with shrubs and lowly springs,
More fitly to the consull woods belong.
Now is fulfild Cumæan Sibyl's song,

Long chaines of better times begin againe,
The Maide returnes, and brings backe Saturne's
raigne ;

New progenies from lofty Heau'n descend:
Thou, chaste Lucina, be this infant's friend,
Whose birth the dayes of ir'n shall quite deface,
And through the world the golden age shall place:
Thy brother Phoebus weares his potent crowne,
And thou (O Pollio!) know thy high renowne,
Thy consulship this glorious change shall breed,
Great months shall then endeuour to proceed:
Thy rule the steps of threatning sinne shall cleare,
And free the Earth from that perpetuall feare:
He with the gods shall liue, and shall behold,
With heauenly spirits noble soules enroll'd,
And seene by them shall guide this worldly frame,
Which to his hand his father's strength doth tame.
To thee (sweet child) the earth brings natiue

dowres,

The wandring iuy, with faire bacchar's flowres,
And colocasia sprung from Egypt's ground,
With smiling leaues of greene acanthus crown'd;
The gotes their swelling vdders home shail beare,
The droues no more shall mighty lions fear;
For thee thy cradle pleasing flowres shall bring,
Imperious Death shall blunt the serpent's sting,
No herbes shall with deceitfull poyson flow,
And sweet amomum eu'ry where shall grow.

But when thou able art to reade the facts
Of worthies, and thy father's famous acts,
To know what glories Vertue's name adorne,
The fields to ripenesse bring the tender corne;

Ripe grapes depend on carelesse brambles' tops,
Hard oakes sweat hony, form'd in dewy drops.
Yet some few steps of former fraudes remaine,
Which men to trie, the sea with ships constraine,
With strengthning walles their cities to defend,
And on the ground long furrowes to extend,
A second Tiphys, and new Argo then,
Shall leade to braue exploits the best of men,
The warre of Troy that towne againe shall burne,
And great Achilles thither shall returne.
But when firme age a perfect man thee makes,
The willing sayler straight the seas forsakes,
The pine no more the vse of trade retaines,
Each countrie breeds all fruits, the earth disdaines
The harrowe's weight, and vines the sickle's strokes;
Strong ploughmen let their bulls go free from yokes,

Wooll feares not to dissemble colours strange,
But rammes their fleeces then in pastures change
To pleasing purple or to saffron die,

And lambes turne ruddy, as they feeding lie.
The Fates, whose wills in stedfast end agree,
Command their wheeles to run, such daies to see.
Attempt great honours, now the time attends,
Deare childe of gods, whose line from Ioue descends.
See how the world with weight declining lies;
The carth, the spacious seas, and arched skies:
Behold againe, how these their griefe asswage
With expectation of the future age:

O that my life and breath so long would last
To tell thy deeds! I should not be surpast
By Thracian Orpheus, nor if Linus sing,
Though they from Phoebus and the Muses spring:
Should Pan (Arcadia iudging) striue with me,
Pan by Arcadia's doome would conquer'd be.
Begin, thou little childe; by laughter owne
Thy mother, who ten months hath fully knowne
Of tedious houres: begin, thou little childe,
On whom as yet thy parents neuer smil'd,
The god with meate hath not thy hunger fed,
Nor goddesse laid thee in a little bed.

Sweet children are delights, which marriage blesse
He that hath none, disturbs his thoughts the lesse.
Strong youth can triumph in victorious deeds:
Old age the soule with pious motion feeds.
All states are good, and they are falsly led,
Who wish to be vnborne, or quickly dead.

THIS

HORAT. LIB. II. SAT. VI.

HIS was my wish: no ample space of ground,
T" include my garden with a mod'rate bound,
And neere my house a fountaine neuer dry,
A little wood, which might my wants supply :
The gods haue made me blest with larger store:
It is sufficient, I desire no more,

O sonne of Maia! but this grant alone,
That quiet vse may make these gifts mine owne,
If I increase them by no lawlesse way,
Nor through my fault will cause them to decay;
If not to these fond hopes my thoughts decline,
O that this joyning corner could be mine,
Which with disgrace deformes and maimes my field;
Or Fortune would a pot of siluer yeeld,
(As vnto him who, being hir'd to worke,
Discouer'd treasure, which in mold did lurke,
And bought the land, which he before had till'd,
Since friendly Hercules his bosome fill'd)
If I with thankfull minde these blessings take,
Let fat in all things, but my wit, be seene,
Disdaine not this petition which I make.
And be my safest guard as thou hast been.
When from the citty I my selfe remoue
Vp to the hills, as to a towre aboue,

I find no fitter labours, nor delights,
Than Satyres, which my lowly Muse indites:
No foule ambition can me there expose
To danger, nor the leaden wind that blowes
From southerne parts, nor Autumne's grieuous raine,
Whence bitter Libitina reapes her gaine.
O father of the morning's purple light!
Or if thou rather would'st be Ianus' hight,

AN EPIGRAM CONCERNING MAN'S LIFE, From whose dinine beginning mortalls draw

COMPOSED BY CRATES, OR POSIDIPPUS.

WHAT Course of life should wretched mortals take?
In courts, hard questions, large contention make,
Care dwels in houses, labour in the field,
Tumultuous seas affrighting dangers yeeld.
In forraine lands thou neuer canst be blest;
If rich, thou art in feare; if poore, distrest.
In wedlock, frequent discontentments swell:
Vnmarried persons, as in desarts dwell.
How many troubles are with children borne ?
Yet he that wants them, counts himselfe forlorne.
Young men are wanton, and of wisedome void :.
Gray haires are cold, vnfit to be imploid.
Who would not one of these two offers choose:
Not to be borne, or breath with speede to loose?

THE ANSWER OF METRODORUS.

IN euery way of life, true pleasure flowes,
Immortall fame, from publike action growes:
Within the doores is found appeasing rest;
In fields, the gifts of Nature are exprest.
The sea brings gaine, the rich abroad prouide
To blaze their names, the poore their wants to hide :
All housholds best are govern'd by a wife;
lis cares are light, who leades a single life.

The paines of life, according to the law,
Which is appointed by the gods' decree,
Thou shalt the entrance of my verses be.
At Rome thou driu'st me, as a pledge to goe,
That none himselfe may more officious show.
Although the fury of the northerne blast
Shall sweepe the earth; or Winter's force hath cast
The snowy day into a narrow sphere,

I must proceede, and hauing spoken cleare
And cirtaine truth, must wrestle in the throng,
Where, by my haste, the slower suffer wrong,
And crie, "What ayles the mad man? whither.

tend

His speedy steps?" while mine imperious friend
Intreates, and chafes, admitting no delay,
And I must beate all those that stop my way.
The glad remembrance of Mecenas lends
A sweete content: but when my journey benda
To blacke Esquiliæ, there a hundred tides
Of strangers' causes presse my head and sides.
"You must, before the second houre, appeare
In court to morrow, and for Roscius sweare.
The scribes desire you would to them repaire,
About a publike, great, and new affaire,
Procure such fauour from Mecænas' hand,
As that his seale may on this paper stand."

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