Or, under Thyne, let us sure shaddowed be.
Thyne reaches so long owre heaven, air, earth, sea—
This but a blast, and bounded is by The:
Tyme rotts the ane: Thyne doeth remain for ay,
Proclaiming peace unto thy saints alway.
Man’s Rainbowe’s collor’s red, and full of fyre;
Thine whyte, blew, red—signes of thy quenched ire.
[204] Folio MS., f. 71.
[205] Folio MS., f. 69. This is an answer to a short and general but very kindly letter from the Earl of Holland, dated 22d May.
[206] Folio MS., f. 68.