University of Virginia Library

Epig. 36. The basenesse of the present age.

1

O that (if Fate so pleased (I now were one
The Palfray, that same chaste and wonderous wight
Bestrod, and cleft the Ayre, BELLEROPHON,
Or in Medeas Charriot took my flight

2

To some strange Country not inhabited
With humans, but a wilde and barren waste,
Whereas the LOTOS Tree, his boughs doth spread,
Whose fruit I'de prize 'bove all by men embrac'd.

61

3

For that rare fruit, my most ingratefull soile,
Would make me soon forget, and I ne're more
Should back return 'mongst Furies for to toile,
Who (with fond Mydas) with for golden oare:

4

And nothing else esteem, for should they heare
Apollo strike his strings, (unto their sence)
Even Rustick Pan the Lawrell wreath should weare,
And before Sol have the preheminence:
I grovell on the ground, and fooles do stride
Over my bulke, and on my back do ride.
 

The fruit of this tree, according to Homer, whosoever tasted, quite forgot his Country, and what ever before happened to him.