Chapter_17

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That Mantuane Poets incompared spirit,

Whose girland now is set in highest place,

Had not Mecaenas, for his worthy merit,

It first advaunst to great Augustus grace,

Might long perhaps have lien in silence bace,

Ne bene so much admir’d of later age.

This lowly Muse, that learns like steps to trace,

Flies for like aide unto your Patronage,

That are the great Mecaenas of this age,

As wel to al that civil artes professe,

As those that are inspir’d with Martial rage,

And craves protection of her feeblenesse:

Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse

In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse.