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« Since thou art dead, lo! here I prophesy,
“ Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend;
“ It shall be waited on with jealousy,
“ Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end;

“ Ne'er settled equally, but high or low ;
“ That all love's pleasure shall not match his

woe.

“ It shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud; “ Bud and be blasted in a breathing while; “ The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd “With sweets, that shall the truest sight beguile:

“ The strongest body shall it make most weak, “Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to

speak.

“ It shall be sparing, and too full of riot,

Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures ;44 “The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet, “ Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor

with treasures: “ It shall be raging mad, and silly mild, “ Make the young old, the old become a child.

“ It shall suspect where is no cause of fear; “ It shall not fear where it should most mistrust; “ It shall be merciful, and too severe, “ And most deceiving, when it seems most just ;

44 measures) A measure was a solemn dance with measured steps.

“ Perverse it shall be, where it shows most toward, “Put fear to valour, courage to the coward.

" It shall be cause of war, and dire events,
“ And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire;

Subject and servile to all discontents, “As dry combustious matter is to fire;

“ Sith in his prime death doth my love destroy, “ They that love best, their loves shall not

enjoy.”

By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd,
Was melted like a vapour from her sight,
And in his blood that on the ground lay spill'd,
A purple flower sprung up, chequer'd with white,

Resembling well his pale cheeks, and the blood,
Which in round drops upon their whiteness

stood.

She bows her head, the new sprung flower to smell,
Comparing it to her Adonis' breath ;
And says, within her bosom it shall dwell,
Since he himself is reft from her by death:

She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears
Green dropping sap, which she compares to

tears,

“ Poor flower," quoth she, “ this was thy father's

guise, (Sweet issue of a more sweet smelling sire)

66

“ For every little grief to wet his eyes : “ To grow unto þimself was his desire,

“ And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good “ To wither in my breast, as in his blood.

“ Here was thy father's bed, here in my

breast; “ Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right: “ Lo! in this hollow cradle take thy rest, “My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night:

“ There shall not be one minute in an hour “Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.”

Thus weary

of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted, through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd, Holding their course to Paphos, where their

queen Means to immure herself, and not be seen.

THE RAPE OF LUCRECE.

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