In which the foule that serves to beare the lightning
Is now no more seen flying nor alighting.
[* _Brent_, burned.]
XVIII.
These heapes of stones, these old wals which ye see,
Were first enclosures but of salvage soyle;
And these brave pallaces, which maystred bee
Of time, were shepheards cottages somewhile.
Then tooke the shepheards kingly ornaments
And the stout hynde arm'd his right hand with steele:
Eftsoones their rule of yearely presidents
Grew great, and sixe months greater a great deele;
Which, made perpetuall, rose to so great might,
That thence th'imperiall eagle rooting tooke,
Till th'heaven it selfe, opposing gainst her might,
Her power to Peters successor betooke,
Who, shepheardlike, (as Fates the same foreseeing,)
Doth shew that all things turne to their first being.
[XVIII. 8.--_Sixe months_, &c. The term of the dictatorship at Rome.]
XIX.
All that is perfect, which th'heaven beautefies;
All that's imperfect, borne belowe the moone;
All that doth feede our spirits and our eies;
And all that doth consume our pleasures soone;
All the mishap the which our daies outweares;
All the good hap of th'oldest times afore,
Rome, in the time of her great ancesters,
Like a Pandora, locked long in store.
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