John Ogilby

Taught by my Woes, to succour the distrest.

If Men, and Mortal Powers you not regard, Yet know, the Gods both Right and Wrong record.

She all the Goddesses excels.

But who art thou? that Voyce, and beauteous Face, Not Mortal is; thou art of Heavenly Race.

How could my Son so highly thee incense What was the wasted Trojans great offence?

Having drown'd her sparkling Eyes in tears.

Live, and with Hope such happy Dayes expect. This said, although opprest with weighty Care, He shews glad Looks, and hides his deep Despair.

This Story may Delightful be to tell another day.

Dear Friends, for we have many Dangers past, And greater, God these too will end at last.

So great the Task to raise the Roman State!

Can in Celestial minds such Passion reign?

Arms, and the Man I sing, who first did land, Fate-forc'd from Troy, on the Lavinian Strand; Whom angry Gods at Sea and Land engage, And cruel Juno's persecuting Rage. Much suffer'd he by War, whilst Walls he rear'd, And Trojan Gods to …

Farewell, farewel, Night shades my Body o're, Stretching my hands, t'embrace thee, thine no more.

Nor is there place for Death.

They say the Deity Is mix'd through Earth, the Sea, and lofty Skie.

If I may great things compare with Small.

But time irreparable hasts away.

The same Love works in all.

Yet I a way to raise my self have found, Shall make my Name through all the World renown'd.

Happy is he that hidden causes knowes.

I'le delight in Vales, near pleasant Floods, And unrenown'd, haunt Rivers, Hills and Woods.

Such strength hath Custome in each tender Soul.

Bacchus loves the Sunny hills.

First the Gods adore.