University of Virginia Library

Epig. 41. An Apollogie to Sir Thomas Engham .

SIR,

Blame me not although I flag,
My wings are wet, I needs must lag,
I tast ('tis true) the holy spring,
But then am forc'd Swan-like to sing
My own sad Fate, Swans should have faire
Weather to sing in; clogg'd with care
Who's he can clime Pernassus Hill?
I'me with my Fortune jarring still:

65

The reason why I am so hoarse,
Lost to my singing, and discourse.