Bereaves mild mothers of their milky fawns.
LXXXI.
O too dear knowledge! O pernicious earning!
Foul curse engraven upon beauty's page!
Ev'n now the sorrow of that deadly learning
Ploughs up her brow, like an untimely age,
And on her cheek stamps verdict of death's truth
By canker blights upon the bud of youth!
LXXXII.
For as unwholesome winds decay the leaf,