In restless Hurries thoughtlessly they live,
At Substance oft unmov'd, for Shadows grieve.
Children at Toys, as Men at Titles aim;
And in effect both covet but the same.
This Philip's Son prov'd in revolving Years;
And first for Rattles, then for Worlds shed Tears.
The Fury spoke, then in a moment fir'd
The Horoe's Breast with Tempests, and retir'd.
In boding Dreams Mirmillo spent the Night,
And frightful Phantoms danc'd before his Sight,
Till the pale Pleiads clos'd their Eyes of Light.
At length gay Morn glows in the Eastern Skies,
The Larks in Raptures thro' the Æther rise,
The Azure Mists feud o'er the dewy Lawns,
The Chaunter at his early Matins yawns,
The Amaranth opes its Leaves, the Lys its Bells,
And Progue her Complaint of Tereus tells.
As bold Mirmillo the gray Dawn descries,
Arm'd Cap-a-pe, where Honour calls, he flies,
And finds the Legions planted at their Post;
Where mighty Querpo fill'd the Eye the most.
His Arms were made, if we may credit Fame,
By [1]Mulciber, the Mayor of Bromingham.
Of temper'd Stibium the bright Shield was cast,
[2]And yet the Work the Metal far surpass'd.
Page:The dispensary - a poem in six canto's (sic) (IA b30356775).pdf/83
Canto IV.
59
A
