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The Memphite Zoroas, a cunning clerk ;
To whom the heavens lay open, as his book :
And in celestial bodies he could tell
The moving, meeting, light, aspect, eclipse,
And influence, and constellations all.
What earthly chances would betide, what year
Of plenty stor'd, what sign forewarned dearth:
How winter gendereth snow, what temperature
In the prime-tide doth season well the soil ;
Why summer burns, why autumn hath ripe grapes :
Whether the circle quadrate may become;
Whether our tunes heaven's harmony can yield.

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sage then in the stars had spied the Fates Threaten'd him death, without delay; and sithe He saw he could not fatal order change, Forward he press'd, in battle that he might Meet with the ruler of the Macedons; Of his right hand desirous to be slain, The boldest beurn, 2 and worthiest in the field, And as a wight now weary of his life, And seeking death, in first front of his rage Comes desperately to Alexander's face; At him, with darts, one after other, throws; With reckless words and clamour him provokes; And saith, “ Nectanab's bastard, shameful stain

Ed. 1567, “ hath." 2 Qu, bearn, or barn?

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6 Of mother's bed! why losest thou thy strokes, “ Cowards among? Turn thee to me, in case “ Manhood there be so much left in thy heart! “ Come fight with me, that on my helmet wear “ Apollo's laurel, both for learning's laud, " And eke for martial praise ; that in my shield The sevenfold sophie of Minerve contain ; “ A match more meet, sir king, than any

here." The noble prince, amov'd, takes ruth upon The wilful wight, and with soft words again, “ O monstrous man," quod he, “what so thou art, I pray

thee live! ne do not with thy death “ This lodge of lore, the Muses' mansion mar! " That treasure house this hand shall never spoil :

My sword shall never bruise that skilful brain, “Long gather'd heaps of science soon to spill. “ O, how fair fruits may you to mortal men “ From wisdom's garden give? How many may “ By you the wiser and the better prove ? " What error, what mad mood, what phrenzy thee “ Persuades to be down sent to deep Avern, “ Where no arts flourish, nor no knowledge 'vails?'” For all these saws, when thus the sovereign said, Alighted Zoroas : with sword unsheath'd The careless king there smote above the greave At th' opening of his cuishes-wounded him

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But yet his mind he bent, in any wise,
Him to forbear; set spurs unto his steed,
And turn'd away, lest anger of his smart
Should cause revenger hand deal baleful blows.
But of the Macedonian chieftain's knights
One Meleager, could not bear this sight,
But ran upon the said Egyptian renk,'
And cut him in both knees ;-he fell to ground.

The Persians wail'd such sapience to forego :-
The very foen, the Macedonians wish'd
He would have liv'd ;-king Alexander self
Deem'd'him a man unmeet to die at all :
Who won like praise, for conquest of his ire,
As for stout men in field that day subdued.

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But over all, those same Camenes, those same Divine Camenes, whose honour he procur'd, As tender parent doth his daughters' weal, Lamented; and for thanks, all that they can, Do cherish him deceas'd, and set him free From dark oblivion of devouring Death,


Marcus Tullius Cicero's Death.

Therefore when restless rage of wind and wave He saw: “ By Fates, alas ! cail'd for," quod he, “ Is hapless Cicero. Sail on, shape course “ To the next shore, and bring me to my death! “ Perdy, these thanks, rescu'd from civil sword, “ Wilt thou, my country, pay!--I see mine end; “ So powers divine, so bid the gods above."



Speaking no more, but drawing from deep heart
Great groans, e'en at the name of Rome rehears’d,

eyes and cheeks with showers of tears he wash’d.
And (though a rout in daily dangers worn)
With forced face the shipmen held their tears;
And striving long the sea's rough food to pass
In angry winds and stormy showers made way,
And, at the last, safe anchor'd in the road.
Came heavy Cicero a-land : with pain
His fainted limbs the aged sire doth draw.
And round about their master stood his band ;
Nor greatly with their own hard hap dismay'd,
Nor plighted faith prone in sharp time to break,
Some swords prepare ; some their dear lord assist.
In litter laid they lead him uncouth ways;
If so deceive Antonius' cruel glaives."

The editions read "prove."

2 Swords.

They might, and threats of following routs escape.
Thus lo; that Tully went ! that Tullius,
Of royal robe and sacred senate prince;
When he afar the men approach espieth,
And of his foen the ensign doth aknow
And with drawn sword Popilius threatening death,
Whose life and whole estate in hazard once
He had preserv'd, when Rome, as yet to-free,
Heard him, and at his thundering voice amaz’d.
Herennius eke, more eager than the rest,
Present inflam'd with fury him pursues.
What might he do? Should he use in defence
Disarmed hands? or pardon ask for meed?
Should he with words attempt to turn the wroth
Of th' armed knight, whose safeguard he had

wrought? No, age forbids, and fix'd within deep breast His country's love, and falling Rome's image. “ The chariot turn,” sayth he, “let loose the reins ! “ Run to the undeserved death! me, lo, “ Hath Phæbus' fowl, as messenger forewarn’d, “ And Jove desires a new heaven's-man to make. “ Brutus' and Cassius' souls, live you in bliss ! “ In case yet all the Fates gainstrive us not, “ Neither shall we, perchance, die unreveng'd. “ Now have I liv'd, O Rome, enough for me :

Ed. 1567, “ tiger.”

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