Till then: for evermore she hated, never loved.
XXV
And said, Deare daughter rightly may I rew
The fall of famous children borne of mee,
And good successes,[°] which their foes ensew:
But who can turne the streame of destinee,
Or breake the chayne[°] of strong necessitee,
Which fast is tyde to Joves eternall seat?
The sonnes of Day he favoureth, I see,