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A HYMNE TO APOLLO.
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This for your owne sakes I desire; for IWill propagate mine owne precedencie,As far as earth shall well-built cities beare;Or humane conuersation, is held deare.Not with my praise direct; but praises due;And men shall credit it, because tis true. How euer, I'le not cease the praise I vowTo farre-shot Phœbus, with the siluer bow;Whom louely-hair'd Latona gaue the light.O King? Both Lycia, is in Rule thy Right;Faire Mœonie, and the MaritimallMiletus; wisht to be the seate of all. But chiefely Delos, girt with billowes round,Thy most respected empire doth resound.Where thou to Pythus wentst; to answer there,(As soone as thou wert borne) the burning eareOf many a far-come, to heare future deeds:Clad in diuine, and odoriferous weeds.And with thy Golden Fescue, plaidst vponThy hollow Harp; that sounds to heauen set gone. Then to Olympus, swift as thought hee flewTo Ioues high house; and had a retinewOf Gods t'attend him. And then strait did fallTo studie of the Harp, and Harpsicall,All th'Immortalls. To whom, euery MuseWith rauishing voices, did their answers vse,Singing Th'eternall deeds of Deitie.And from their hands, what Hells of miserie,
