MART. EP. XV. LIB. 6.
Dum Phaetontea formica vagatur in umbra,
Implicuit tenuem succina gutta feram,
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Wise emblem of our politic world,
Sage snail, within thine own self curl'd;
Instruct me softly to make haste,
Whilst these my feet go slowly fast.
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To My Noble Friend, Mr Charles Cotton
O thou that swing'st upon the waving ear
Of some well-filled oaten beard,
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To the richest Treasury
That e'er fill'd ambitious eye;
To the faire bright Magazin
Hath impoverisht Love's Queen;
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Dull as I was, to think that a court fly
Presum'd so neer her eye;
When 'twas th' industrious bee
Mistook her glorious face for paradise,
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DE CATONE.
Invictus victis in partibus omnia Caesar
Vincere qui potuit, te, Cato, non potuit.
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I.
Amarantha sweet and faire,
Ah brade no more that shining haire!
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Cleft as the top of the inspired hill,
Struggles the soul of my divided quill,
Whilst this foot doth the watry mount aspire,
That Sinai's living and enlivening fire,
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I.
Why shouldst thou sweare I am forsworn,
Since thine I vow'd to be?
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MAR. LIB. IV. EP. 33.
Et latet et lucet, Phaetontide condita gutta
Ut videatur apis nectare clausa suo.
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