Marcus Tullius Cicero's Death.

Therefore when restless rage of wind and wave He saw: 66 By Fates, alas! call'd for," quod he, "Is hapless Cicero. Sail on, shape course "To the next shore, and bring me to my death! "Perdy, these thanks, rescu'd from civil sword, "Wilt thou, my country, pay?—I see mine end; "So powers divine, so bid the gods above."

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Speaking no more, but drawing from deep heart
Great groans, e'en at the name of Rome rehears'd,
His
eyes
and cheeks with showers of tears he wash'd.
And (though a rout in daily dangers worn)
With forced face the shipmen held their tears;
And striving long the sea's rough flood to pass
In angry winds and stormy showers made way,
And, at the last, safe anchor'd in the road.
Came heavy Cicero a-land: with pain
His fainted limbs the aged sire doth draw.
And round about their master stood his band;
Nor greatly with their own hard hap dismay'd,
Nor plighted faith prone in sharp time to break,
Some swords prepare; some their dear lord assist.
In litter laid they lead him uncouth ways;
If so deceive Antonius' cruel glaives.*

I The editions read "prove."

2 Swords.

They might, and threats of following routs escape.
Thus lo, that Tully went! that Tullius,
Of royal robe and sacred senate prince;
When he afar the men approach espieth,
And of his foen the ensign doth aknow

And with drawn sword Popilius threatening death,
Whose life and whole estate in hazard once
He had preserv❜d, when Rome, as yet to-free,
Heard him, and at his thundering voice amaz'd.
Herennius eke, more eager than the rest,
Present inflam'd with fury him pursues.

What might he do? Should he use in defence
Disarmed hands? or pardon ask for meed?
Should he with words attempt to turn the wroth
Of th' armed knight, whose safeguard he had
wrought?

No, age forbids, and fix'd within deep breast His country's love, and falling Rome's image. "The chariot turn," sayth he, "let loose the reins! "Run to the undeserved death! me, lo, "Hath Phoebus' fowl, as messenger forewarn'd, "And Jove desires a new heaven's-man to make. "Brutus' and Cassius' souls, live you in bliss! "In case yet all the Fates gainstrive us not, "Neither shall we, perchance, die unreveng'd. "Now have I liv'd, O Rome, enough for me:

I Ed. 1567,"tiger."

My passed life nought suffereth me to doubt "Noisome oblivion of the loathsome death.

"Slay me! yet all th' offspring to come shall

"know:

"And this decease shall bring eternal life. "Yea, and (unless I fail, and all in vain, "Rome, I sometime thy Augur chosen was,) "Not evermore shall friendly Fortune thee "Favour, Antonius! Once the day shall come "When her dear wights, by cruel spite thus slain, "Victorious Rome shall at thy hands require. "Melikes, therewhile, go see the hoped heaven." Speech had he left, and therewith he, good man, His throat prepar'd, and held his head unmov'd. His hasting to those Fates the very knights Be loth to see, and, rage rebated, when

They his bare neck beheld, and his hoar hairs, Scant could they hold the tears that forth 'gan burst,

And almost fell from bloody hands the swords.
Only the stern Herennius with grim look,
"Dastards, why stand you still?" he saith, and
straight

Swaps off the head with his presumptuous iron.
Ne with that slaughter yet is he not fill'd.
Foul shame on shame to heap is his delight.
Wherefore the hands also doth he off smite,

Which durst Antonius' life so lively paint.
Him yielding strained ghost from welkin high
With loathy cheer lord Phoebus 'gan behold,
And in black cloud, they say, long hid his head.
The Latin Muses, and the Grayes they wept,
And for his fall eternally shall weep.

And lo! heart-piercing Pitho (strange to tell)
Who had to him suffic'd both sense and words,
When so he spake, and dress'd with nectar soote
That flowing tongue, when his wind-pipe disclos'd,
Fled with her fleeing friend, and, out alas,
Hath left the earth, ne will no more return.
Popilius fly'th therewhile, and leaving there
The senseless stock, a grisly sight doth bear
Unto Antonius' board, with mischief fed.

LORD VAUX.

This poet (says Mr Warton) was probably Thomas Lord Vaux, of Harrowden, in Northamptonshire, son of Lord Nicholas, with whom (though no poet), as Mr Ritson observes, he has been confounded by Wood, and others. Puttenham gave the first occasion to this mistake. He succeeded his father in 1528, was summoned to Parliament in 1531, and seems to have lived till the latter end of Queen Mary's reign. Two poems in Tottel's collection, viz. "The Assault of Cupid," and that which begins, I loath that I did love," (from whence three stanzas are quoted in the song of the grave-diggers in Hamlet) are certainly his.

Several of his pieces are also preserved in " the Paradise of Dainty Devices."

Mr Ritson assigns a place among the poets to William lord Vaux, son of the above nobleman, and ascribes to him a share in the poems contained in the collection just mentioned, but adduces no authority.

See Percy's Reliques, I. 49, and Lord Walpole's Royal and Noble Authors.

The Assault of Cupid upon the Fort, where the Lover's Heart lay wounded, and how he was taken.

WHEN Cupid scaled first the fort

Wherein my heart lay wounded sore,

The battery was of such a sort,

That I must yield, or die therefore.