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LXXVII. And here wise Curius, his companion Of noble vertues, lives in endless rest, And stout Flaminius, whose devotion Taught him the fire's scorn'd fury to detest; And here the praise of either Scipion Abides in highest place above the best, To whom the ruin'd walls of Carthage vow'd; Trembling, their forces sound their praises loud.

LXXVIII. Live they for ever through their lasting praise ; But I, poor Wretch ! am forced to return To the sad lakes that Phæbus' sunny rays Do never see, where souls do always mourn, And by the wailing shores to waste my days, Where Phlegeton with quenchless fames doth burn, By which just Minos righteous souls doth sever From wicked ones, to live in bliss for ever.

LXXIX. Me therefore thus the cruel fiends of hell, Girt with long snakes and thousand yron chains, Through doom of that their cruel judge, compel With bitter torture and impatient pains, Cause of my death, and just complaint to tell : For thou art he whom my poor ghost complains To be the author of her ill unwares, That careless hear'st my intollerable cares.

LXXX. Them therefore, as bequeathing to the wind, I now depart, returning to thee never, And leave this lamentable plaint behind ; But do thou haunt the soft down-rolling river, And wild green woods, and fruitful pastures mind, And let the fitting air my vain words sever." Thus having said,

he heavily departed With piteous cry, that any would have smarted.

LXXXI.
Now when the sloathful fit of life's sweet rest
Had left the heavy shepherd, wondrous cares
His inly greived mind full sore opprest,
That baleful sorrow he no longer bears
For that Gnat's death, which deeply was imprest,
But bends whatever power his aged years
Him lent, yet being such, as though their might
He lately slew his dreadful for, in fight,

LXXXII.
By that same river lurking under green.
Eftsoons he’gins to fashion forth a place,
And squaring it in compass well beseen,
There plotteth out a tomb by measured space :
His yron-headed spade tho' making clean,
To dig up sods out of the flowrie grass,
His work he shortly to good purpose brought,
Like as he had conceiy'd it in his thought.

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LXXXIII.
An heap of earth he hoorded up on high
Enclosing it with banks on every side,
And thereupon did raise full busily
A little mount, of green turfs edifide;
And on the top of all, that passers by
Might it behold, the tomb he did provide
Of smoothest marble-stone, in order set,
That never might his lucky scape forget.

LXXXIV.
And round about he taught sweet flowres to grow,
The rose, engrained in pure scarlet dye,
The lilly fresh, and violet below,
The marigold, and chearful rosemary,
The Spartan myrtle, whence sweet gum does flow,
The purple hyacinth, and fresh costmary,
And saffron, sought for in Cilician soil,
And laurel, th' ornament of Phoebus' toil;

LXXXV. Fresh Rhododaphne, and the sabine flowre Matching the wealth of th'antient frankincence, And pallid.ivy, building his own bowre, And box, yet mindful of his old offence, Red amaranthus, luckless paramour, Ox-eye, still green,

and bitter patience; Ne wants there pale Narciss, that in a well Seeing his beauty, in love with it fell.

LXXXVI. And whatsoever other flowre of worth, And whatso other herb of lovely hue The joyous Spring out of the ground brings forth, To clothe her self in colours fresh and new, He planted there, and rear'd a mount of earth, In whose high front was writ as doth ensue ; To thee, small Gnat, in lieu of his life saved, The shepherd batb thy deatb's record engraved.

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