Pocula Castalia The Authors Motto. Fortunes Tennis-Ball. Eliza. Poems. Epigrams. &c. By R. B. [i.e Robert Baron] |
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54
No, no, the Yoak must ever gall our necks
Our harsh Fates made us to obey.
In childhood we observe our Parents becks,
Then men doe steale our hearts away.
Wretched as weak our Sex is grown
Whose Wills and Hearts are ne'r our own,
Vlorus.
How wretched's he whose fortune lower lies
Than his Love will bow unto't?
Joves royall Bird preys not on silly Flies,
Shrubs wither at the Cedars root.
Fond Icarvs, rather then die tame
With secret griefe than open shame.
Rosella.
How fond is he his sword away will throw
Ere victory to his foe flies!
The highest Sun doth daign to shine below,
Palmes supprest doth higher rise.
Then live, or let thy fall be fair
By brave attempts, not base Despaire.
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