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Dulcibus his oculis accelerare diem :
Sarcina ne collo sit minus apta tuo. Scilicet ille tuus, timor & spes ille suorum,
Quo primum es fælix pignore facta parens, Ille ferox iras jam nunc meditatur & enses ;
Jam patris magis est, jam magis ille suus. Indolis O stimulos! Vix dum illi transiit infans ;
Jamque sibi impatiens arripit ille virum. Improbus ille suis adeò negat ire sub annis:
Jam nondum puer est, major & est puero. Si quis in aulæis pietas animatus in iras
Stat leo, quem doctâ cuspide lusit acus, Hostis (io !) est; neg enim ille alium dignabitur hostem;
Nempe decet tantas non minor ira manus.
Mox falsum vero vulnere pectus biat.
Ceu quid in his oculis vel timeat vel amet,
Mars ne sub his oculis esset, an esset Amor. Quippe illic Mars est, sed qui bene possit amari ;
Ést & Amor certé, sed metuendus Amor :
Seu puer bic esset, sive vir ille deus.
Res (ecce !) in lusus non operosa tuos.
Jam quocunque tuus murmure sudat amor,
Hic ad blanditias est tibi cera satis.
Maternis labiis dulce negotiolum,
Et Carolo Mariæ tertius est oculus.
Out of Martiall.
Oure Teeth thou had'st that ranck'd in goodly state
Kept thy Mouthes Gate.
The first blast of thy cough left two alone,
The second, none.
This last cough Ælia, cought out all thy feare,
Out of Virgil,
In the praise of the Spring.
To swell with forward pride, and seed desire
With a Pieture sent to a Friend. I
Paint so ill my peece had need to be
Painted againe by some good Poesie. I write so ill, my slender Line is scarce
So much as th' Picture of a well-lim'd verse :
Send nor true Picture, nor true Poesie.
The beginning of Helidorus.
And tipt the Mountaines with a tender ray :
There to the maine land tyd A ship they saw, no men she had; yet prest Appear’d with other lading, for her brest Deep in the groaning waters wallowëd Up to the third Ring; o're the shore was spread Death's purple triumph, on the blushing ground Lifes late forsaken houses all lay drown'd In their owne bloods deare deluge, some new dead, Some panting in their yet warme ruines bled : While their affrighted soules, now wing’d for flight Lent them the last Aash of her glimmering light. Those yet fresh streames which crawled every where Shew'd that sterne warre had newly bath'd him there. Nor did the face of this disaster show Markes of a fight alone, but feasting too, A miserable and a monstruous feast, Where hungry warre had made himself a Guest : And comming late had eat up Guests and all, Who prov'd the feast to their owne funerall, &c.
Out of the Greeke
Her little fugitive discover :
O yes ! if any happy eye,