And the learned Reader praise to thee should give,
And be honour'd while that I thy Poet live:
'Tis Caeser's gift that we do breathe this air:
After the Gods, thanks unto the due are.
He gave me life, and thou do'st it maintain,
That so I may enjoy that gift again.
Some were dismay'd my ruine for to see,
And some dismayed were for company.
And behold my ship-wrack from some hill on land,
And to me swimming would not reach their hand.
Thou cald'st me halfe dead from the Stygian water,
And mad'st me to remember this hereafter.
May the Gods and Caesar still be friends to thee,
My prayer cannot any larger be.
These things in my witty books I would have brought
To light, if thou the same had'st fitting thought.
Now though commanded for to hold her peace,
My Muse from naming thee can hardly cease.
As the couples cannot hold the striving hound,
When he the footing of the Dear hath found.
As the fierce horse with heels and head doth bear,
On the List-gates till they be open set.
So my Thalia shut in and enclos'd,
To name thee though forbidden is dispos'd,
Yet lest a friends love hurt thee any way,
Fear not, I will thy own commands obey.
Because thou think'st that I do think on thee,
Since thou forbid'st not, I will thankful be.
And while this life preserving light I view,
My soul shall always serve and honour you.