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TO HIS DEAR FRIEND, AND fellow student Mr. Robert AEton.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

TO HIS DEAR FRIEND, AND fellow student Mr. Robert AEton.

Sing swift hoof'd Æthon to thy matchles selfe,
And be not silent in this pleasant spring:
I am thy Echo, and thy Aerie elf,
The latter strains of thy sweet tunes I'll sing:
Ah, shall thy Muse no further frutes forth-bring,
But Basia bare, and wilt thou write no more
To higher notes, J pray thee tune thy string:
Be still admir'd as thou hast bene of yore,
Write Æthon writ, let not thy vain decay,
Least we become Cymerians dark, or worse.
If Æthon faill, the Sun his course must stay,
For, Phœbus Chariot laks the cheefest horse:
Thogh Fortun frown, ah, why should vertue die,
Sing Æthon sing, and J shall Echo thee.