 | Loves leprosie (1842) |  |
67
LECTORI.
Twas Dedelus that enuied at the boyDrencht in the sea, for making of a toy:
Little glory did he winne,
Enuie is a mickle sinne.
Tis he, and none but he I feare,
Loath to buy my toy so deare.
When Apollo shineth bright,
Lesser starres shall loose their light.
Wonder not when day is ended,
Though our glimmering be extended.
If I borrow from the Sunne,
And restore not, day once done,
May this starre that's so impaled,
Like a meteor be exhaled;
That with his prodigious breath,
Doth infect vnto the death.
Cast me not headlong from Parnassus hill,
Although my work be wanting to my will.
Gentle reader yours to vse,
If propitiate with his muse.
T. P.
| Loves leprosie (1842) | |