386. A VOW TO MARS.
Store of courage to me grant,
Now I'm turn'd a combatant;
Help me, so that I my shield,
Fighting, lose not in the field.
That's the greatest shame of all
That in warfare can befall.
Do but this, and there shall be
Offer'd up a wolf to thee.
387. TO HIS MAID, PREW.
These summer-birds did with thy master stay
The times of warmth, but then they flew away,
Leaving their poet, being now grown old,
Expos'd to all the coming winter's cold.
But thou, kind Prew, did'st with my fates abide
As well the winter's as the summer's tide;
For which thy love, live with thy master here,
Not one, but all the seasons of the year.
388. A CANTICLE TO APOLLO.
Play, Phœbus, on thy lute;
And we will all sit mute,
By listening to thy lyre,
That sets all ears on fire.
Hark, hark, the god does play!
And as he leads the way
Through heaven the very spheres,
As men, turn all to ears.
389. A JUST MAN.
A just man's like a rock that turns the wrath
Of all the raging waves into a froth.