This page has been validated.
SIR MARTYN.
15
XXVIII.
His manlie ſenſe that faireſt bloſſoms bore,
His temper gentle as the whiſpering gale,
His native goodneſſe, and his vertuous lore!
Now through his veins, all uninflamd before,
Th' enchanted cup of Diſſipation hight
Has ſhedd, with ſubtil ſtealth, through everie pore,
Its giddy poiſon, brewd with magicke might,
Each budd of gentle worth and better thought to blight.
XXIX.
To chace the foming bore and fallow deer,
At firſt the trader's beverage ſhylie taſtes;
But ſoon with headlong rage, unfelt whyleare,
Inflamd he luſts for the delirious cheer:
So burſts the Boy diſdainful of reſtrent
Headlong attonce into the wylde career
Of jollitie, with all his mind unbent,
And dull and yrksome hangs the day in ſports unſpent.
