Dum adventu matris prosilit, excutitur:
Atque illud prono praeceps agitur decursu,
Huic manat tristi conscius ore rubor.
LXV.
To Hortalus Lamenting a Lost Brother.
Albeit care that consumes, with dule assiduous grieving,
Me from the Learnèd Maids (Hortalus!) ever seclude,
Nor can avail sweet births of the Muses thou to deliver
Thought o' my mind; (so much floats it on flooding of ills:
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