592. ON HIMSELF.
Live by thy muse thou shalt, when others die
Leaving no fame to long posterity:
When monarchies trans-shifted are, and gone,
Here shall endure thy vast dominion.
593. UPON A MAID.
Hence a blessed soul is fled,
Leaving here the body dead;
Which since here they can't combine,
For the saint we'll keep the shrine.
596. UPON THE TROUBLESOME TIMES.
O times most bad,
Without the scope
Of hope
Of better to be had!
Where shall I go,
Or whither run
To shun
This public overthrow?
No places are,
This I am sure,
Secure
In this our wasting war.
Some storms we've past,
Yet we must all
Down fall,
And perish at the last.