And Phillis hath to read, if now she lives.
Jason's sad letter doth Hypsipyle greet;
Sappho her vowed harp lays at Phœbus' feet.
Nor of thee, Macer, that resound'st forth arms,
Is golden love hid in Mars' mid alarms.
There Paris is, and Helen's crimes record,
With Laodamia, mate to her dead lord,
Unless I err to these thou more incline,
Than wars, and from thy tents wilt come to mine.40