2 EMBLEMA. Friend faber, cast me a round hollow ball, With flowers and fruits, with brooks, beasts, fish, and fowl, And grave in gold, about my silver bowl, Whose fruit is fiction; whose foundation wind. 3 FUIMUS FUMUS. Where, where are now the great reports Of those huge haughty earthborn giants? Where are the lofty towers and forts Of those proud kings bade Heaven defiance? When these I to my mind revoke, Methinks I see a mighty smoke Thick mounting from quick-burning matter, 5 5 4 OMNIA SOMNIA. Go, silly worm, drudge, trudge, and travel, 5 5 MORS MORTIS. The World and Death one day them cross-disguised, To say whose servant he would fairly yield him. 5 TO HIM whose death killed Death, and from the world has driven him. Joshua Sylvester. VIII THE STORY OF A SUMMER DAY. O perfect Light, which shaid away And set a ruler o'er the day, Thy glory, when the day forth flies, 5 Appears a clearer sky. Which soon perceive the little larks, The lapwing and the snipe, And tune their songs, like Nature's clerks, 15 |