That thy fable gender mak'st With the breath thou giv'ft and tak'st, 'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go. Here the anthem doth commence . Reason, in itself confounded, That it cried, how true a twain, Whereupon it made this threne 445 450 455 ROM off a hill whofe concave womb re-worded Fo painful for front a filtering vale, My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, Upon her head a platted hive of straw, 5 Whereon the thought might think fometime it faw 10 Oft did fhe heave her napkin to her eyne, Sometimes her level'd eyes their carriage ride, 15 20 25 30 For fome, untuck'd, defcended her fheav'd hat, Hanging her pale and pined cheek befide; Some in her threaden fillet ftill did bide, And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, Though flackly braided in loofe negligence. S 35 |