So shall Lycoris, whom he now loves best.30
The suffering ploughshare or the flint may wear,
But heavenly poesy no death can fear.
Kings shall give place to it, and kingly shows,
The banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagus flows.
Kneel hinds to trash: me let bright Phœbus swell,
With cups full flowing from the Muses' well.
The frost-drad[232] myrtle shall impale my head,
And of sad lovers I'll be often read.
Envy the living, not the dead doth bite,