A N Z.


Vain others overthrows, whose self doth overthrow.

What if we should read ?

Vain others overthrows who's self doth overthrow.

In vain be overthrows others, who his (or him) self doth overthrow. But perhaps it is as Spenser wrote it.

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And on the other side a pleasant grove
Was shot up high, full of the stately tree
That dedicated is t’Olympick Jove,
And to his son Alcides, when as he

Gain'd in Nemæa goodly victory.
It is not easy to know what Spenser had in his
mind here. At the Olympick games the victors
were crown'd oleaftro, ferâ olivá, says Statius; at the
Nemæan games, apio.

I know of no victory which Hercules gained in Nemea, except his killing the lion there. Hercules was crowned oleaftro at the Olympick games. His favourite tree however was the poplar ; and probably this is the tree of which Spenser speaks.

Natalis Comes I. 9. Scriptum est a Pausaniâ in prioribus Eliacis, in Jovis Olympii fano, ubi magi


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ftratus nigro ariete faciebant, neque ulla portio victima dabatur vati, sed collum tantum lignatori more majorum ; mandatum fuisse negotium lignatori ut ad facrorum usum ligna certo pretio daret, vel publice civitatibus, vel privatim cuilibet, que non erant ex alia arbore, quam ex alba populo; qui bonor habitus eft arbori, quod eam Hercules e Thesprotide primus in Græciam portavit, quam ad fluvium. Acheruntem Thesprotidis reperit, cujus etiam lignis vi&timarum femora cremavit.

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-Up, up, thou womanith weak knight,
That here in ladie's lap entombed art,

Unmindful of thy praise and prowest might.
Virgil. Æn. IV. 265.

Tu nunc Carthaginis alte Fundamenta locas, pulchramque uxorius urbem Exftruis, heu, regni rerumque oblite tuarum.


Speaking of fruits and flowers :

Whilft nothing envious Nature them forth throws
Out of her fruitful lap.

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Lucretius, V. 34.

quando omnibus omnia large Tellus ipfa parit, Naturaque dædala rerum.

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The Lilly, lady of the flowring field,
The Flower-de-luce, her lovely paramour,
Bid thee to them thy fruitless labours yield,
And soon leave off this toilfom weary stour :
Lo! lo! how brave she decks her bounteous bower
With silken curtains and gold coverlets,
Therein to shrowd her fumptuous Belamour,

Yet neither spins nor cards, ne cares nor frets,
But to her mother Nature all her care she lets.

A manifeft allusion to those sacred words : Consider the lilies of the field how they grow; they toil not, neither do they Spin. The poet ought not to have placed them where he has.

Shakespear, King Henry VIII.

Like the Lily, That once was inistress of the field, and flourifh'd, I'll hang my head, and perish.


Wo worth the man, That first did teach the cursed steel to bite In his own flesh, and make way to the living spright. 8


Tibullus, I. xi. 1.
Quis fuit, borrendos primus qui protulit enfes ?

Quam ferus, et vere ferreus ille fuit !


But later ages pride (like corn-fed steed)
Abus'a her plenty, and fat-swoln encrease
To all licentious luft.

Alluding perhaps to Deuteronomy xxxii. 15. But
Fesurun waxed fat, and kicked.

STA N 2. xv.

But would they think with how small allowance
Untroubled nature doth her self suffice, &c.
Lucan, IV. 377

Discite quam parvo liceat producere vitam,
Et quant um Natura petat.

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Then 'gan a cursed hand the quiet womb
Of his great grandmother with steel to wound;
And the hid treasures in her sacred tomb
With facrilege to dig.
Ovid, Met. I. 138.

Itum est in viscera terræ:
Quasque recondiderat, Stygiisque admoverat umbris,
Effodiuntur opes, irritamenta malorum.

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At length they came into a larger space,
That stretch'd it self into an ample plain,
Through which abeaten broad highway did trace,
That streight did lead to Pluto's griefly reign.
By that way's side, there fat infernal Pain,
And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife,
The one in hand an iron whip did strain,

The other brandished a bloody knife;
And both did gnash their teeth, and both did

threaten life.

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On th' other side, in one confort there fate
Cruel Revenge, and rancorous Despight,
Disloyal Treason, and heart-burning Hate :
But, gnawing Jealousy, out of their fight
Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bite;
And trembling Fear still to and fro did fly,
And found no place where safe he shroud him

Lamenting Sorrow did in darkness lie,
And Shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.

And over them fad Horror, with grim hue,
Did always soar, beating his iron wings;
And after him owls and night-ravens flew,
The hateful messengers of heavy things,




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