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Loose Wits made wife, a publick Good beconxe,
Sir Richard Blackmore's Creation, L.2
The Entrance into the Infernal Regions,
JUST in the Gate, and in the Jaws of Hell
Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell,
Here Toils and Death, and Death's Half-Brother Sleep
A like Description from our celebrated Spencer.
That stretch'd it self into an aniple Plain, Thro' which a beaten broad High-way did Trave,
That straight did lead to Pluto's grisly Reign.
And fast beside him fat tumultuous Strifes
And both did gnash their Teeth, and both did threa:
(ten Life. On th' other Side in one Confort there fate Cruel Revenge and rancorous Despite,
Disloyal Treason, and Heart-burning Hate; But gnawing Jealously out of their Sight
Sitting alone, his bitter Lips did bite; And trembling Fear ftill to and fro did fly, And found no place where fafe he shroud him
(might. Lamenting Sorrow did in Darkness lie,
And shanie his ugly Face did hide from living Eye. i And over them fad Horror, with green Hue
Did always Soar, beating his Iron Wings, And after him Owls and Night-Ravens flew,
The hateful Messengers of heavy Things,
Whilst sad Celene Gitting on a Clift,
That Heart of Flint afunder would have rift,
Fairy Queen, La
A Broad in Arms, at Home in ftudious kind,
(foonest find: I. Woods, in Waves, in Wars, she wont to dwell,
And will be found with Peril and with Pain, Nere can the Man that moulds in idle Cell, Unto her happy Mansion attain :
Before her Gate High God did Sweat ordain,
And wakeful Watches ever to abide;
To Pleasure's Palace, it may soon be spy'd
Spencer's Fairy Queen.
A Defcription of Despair
As on the Way together we did fare,
Who first us greets, and after fair areeds Of Tydings ftrange, and of Adventures rare:
So creeping close, as Snake in hidden Weeds, Inquireth of our States, and of our knightly Deeds.
Which when he knew, and felt our feeble Hearts Embofled with Bale and bitter biting Grief,
Which Love had launched with his deadly Darts, With wounding Words and Terms of foul Reprief,
He pluck'd from us all Hope of due Relief, That earst us held in Love of lingring Life;
Then hopeless, heartless, 'gan the cunning Thief Perswade us die, to stint all further Strife,
To me he lent this Rope, to him a rusty Knife. With which fad Instrument of hafty Death,
That woful Lover, loathing lenger Light, A wide Way made to let forth living Breath. But I more fearful, or more lucky Wight,
Q? Disinayed Dilinayed with that deformed difinal Sight,
Fled fast away half dead with dying kar, Ne yet assur'd of Life by you, Sir Knight,
Whofe like Infirmity like Chaunce may bear, But God you never let his charmed Speeches hear.
The Story of Midas, as sold by Geffrey Chaucer. Vyde, among other thynges smale
Said, Midas had under his long Heeres.
She swore him not for al the World to wyn,