Poet. O, very loftily! 
    The winged vallance of your eyes advance
    Shake off your canopied and downie trance: 
    Phoebus already quaffs the morning dew,
    Each does his daily lease of life renew. 
  Now you shall hear description, ’tis the very life of poetry. 
    He darts his beams on the lark’s mossy house,
    And from his quiet tenement doth rouse
    The little charming and harmonious fowl
    Which sings its lump of body to a soul. 
    Swiftly it clambers up in the steep air
    With warbling notes, and makes each note a stair.

[59] Sir Roger L’Estrange gives the names of the people attacked.

[60] One of Cromwell’s principal officers.

[61] Thus familiarly called, no doubt owing to the custom of giving pet names to jesters.

[62] Guardian, Vol.  I. No. 2.

[63] Fence.

  London:  Printed by A. Schulze, 13, Poland Street.