Now to Staveley strait repair I,
Where sweet birds do hatch, their airy
Arbours, oziers freshly showing,
With soft mossy rind o'ergrowing:
For woods, air, ALE, all excelling:
Wouldst thou have a neater dwelling?

Mirtil. BE'T

So,

Faustulus! there repose

thee,

Cheer thy country with thy poesy;

Live, fare well, as thou deservest,

Rich in Arethusa's harvest:

Under the beach while shepherds rank thee,

Zephyrus bless thee. Faust.] I do thank thee.

AD

PHILOXENUM.

Te viatores lepidi patronum, Te tuæ dicunt patriæ coronam, Vatis et vitis roseæ corymbum, Artis alumum.

Te tuus vates lyricis salutat Qui fidem nulla novitate mutat, Nec nova venti levitate nutat,

Fidus ad aras.

ΤΟ

PHILOXENUS.

THEE pleasing waymates titled have their

patron,

Their country's glory, which they build their

state on,

The poet's wine-bush, which they use to prate

on,

Art's merry minion.

In lyric measures doth thy bard salute thee, Who with a constant resolution suits thee, Nor can ought move me to remove me from thee,

But my religion.

Efficit egregios nobilis alla viros.

Fœcundi calices quem non fecere disertum ?

Inflatum hesterno venas, ut semper, iaccho.

Si vitulum spectes, nihil est quod pocula laudes.

FINIS,