Clarastella | ||
On the strange Death of Eschylus a Poet.
Eschylus foretold by a diviner, heBy th'downfal of a house should ruind be:
Fondly that day to 'void this Destinie
Did keep the field, not yet resolv'd to die:
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Having a Tortoys which he meant to break,
Suppos'd his bald pate, as he barehead stood,
To be a stone, on which to get his food
He let it fal: the Tortoys did remain
By this chance safe, and Eschylus was slain.
Oh the unalterd Persian Laws of fate!
Whose fixt decrees none can anticipate!
Bold Poets hence prove mortal, whilst that crown
(Whose radiant temples, laurent with renown,
And deckt with tresses like Apollo's brows)
Is safe from Envies crack, or Deaths fel blows.
Clarastella | ||