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To IDEA.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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To IDEA.

In stately Troy which was by force of fire
Subdu'd in end, and turnd in embers cold,
Apollo's Church while Priam did empire,
Was beautifull and braue for to behold:
In midst whereof hung in a net of gold
A Cocarrice, that Spider, Bird, nor Flie,
To enter there, nor build durst not be bold:
That famous worke from filth was kept so frie.
The like (faire Dame) may well be thought of thee
For why, before thy beauties Altar hings,
Canceld with prid, both blood and birth I see,
With cold disdaine, which serue as certaine sings,
To warne a farre my fancie to refraine,
And rather wrake then once reueale my paine
Cor dolet gelidus torpet sub pertore sanguis,
Me tamen oppressum dicere vetat amor.