THE FOURTH BOOK OF· HE rugged forhead, that with grave foresight By which fraile youth is oft to follie led, Through false allurement of that pleasing baite, Then with vaine poemes weeds to have their fancies fed. Such ones ill judge of love that cannot love, For fault of few that have abusd the same; For it of honor and all vertue is The roote, and brings forth glorious flowres of fame, The meed of them that love, and do not live amisse. THE Book IV. Which who so list looke backe to former ages, And call to count the things that then were donne, Which to his Critias, shaded oft from sunne, The which these Stoicke censours cannot well deny. To such therefore I do not sing at all; To her this song most fitly is addrest, The Queene of love, and Prince of peace from heaven blest. Which that she may the better deigne to heare, Do thou, dred infant, Venus dearling dove, That she may hearke to love, and reade this lesson often. |