 | The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden
|  |
|
lviii.
To the Memorie of his much louing and beloued
Master, M. F. R.
No Wonder now if Mistes beclowde our Day,
Sith now our earth lakes her celestiall Ray;
And Pho̧bus murnes his preest, and all his quire,
In sables wrapt, weep out their sacred fire;
Far well of latin Muses greatest praise,
Whither thou red graue proses or did raise
Delight and wonder by a numbrous straine;
Fare well Quintilian once more dead againe;
With ancient Plautus, Martiall combined,
Maro and Tullie, here in one enshrined.
Bright Ray of learning which so cleare didst streame,
Fare well Soule which so many soules did frame.
Many Olympiades about shall come,
Ere Earth like thee another can entombe.
| The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden
| |
|
