Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.

But see! theVirgin blessed Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending.

Our cure, to be no more; sad cure!

And ever against eating cares Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse

He who freely magnifies what hath been nobly done, and fears not to declares as freely what might be done better, gives ye the best covenant of his fidelity.

The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore, of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).

Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.