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Tixall Poetry.
Drunk with that ill-bestowd successe
Of there owne happinesse,
And pamperd bove ther hight,
Kick downe the bankes of iust and right:
And, blindly frantike, draw a bloody streame
Of sacred purple on ther sonnes and them.
Of there owne happinesse,
And pamperd bove ther hight,
Kick downe the bankes of iust and right:
And, blindly frantike, draw a bloody streame
Of sacred purple on ther sonnes and them.
VIII.
But stay, faint Muse, thy overdaring flight,
To this unseemely height:
Though iustly thy deare Normington not feares
Rash Phaetons late teares,
Whos speculation him might moove
To the waters there above,
And lead him up to spy
That other Padus in the sky:
For thee ore seas to towre can get no fame,
But that of Icarus his empty name.
But stay, faint Muse, thy overdaring flight,
To this unseemely height:
Though iustly thy deare Normington not feares
Rash Phaetons late teares,
Whos speculation him might moove
To the waters there above,
And lead him up to spy
That other Padus in the sky:
For thee ore seas to towre can get no fame,
But that of Icarus his empty name.
