University of Virginia Library

XXIV.

[Chorus]
Hard as the thunder doth she drive it on,
Wit, closely wimpled, guides it to his crown;
His long sharp spear, his spreading shield is gone,
He falls, and falling, rolleth thousands down.
War, gore-faced War, by Envy armed, arist,
His fiery helmet nodding to the air,
Ten bloody arrows in his straining fist— [OMITTED]