So boyles the firèd Herod's blood-swolne brest, Not to be slak't but by a sea of blood: His faithlesse crowne he feeles loose on his crest, Which a false tyrant's head ne're firmely stood. The worme of jealous envy and unrest To which his gnaw'd heart is the growing food, Makes him, impatient of the lingring light, Hate the sweet peace of all-composing Night. LXIII. A thousand prophecies that talke strange things Had sowne of old these doubts in his deepe brest. And now of late came tributary kings, Bringing him nothing but new feares from th' East, More deepe suspicions, and more deadly stings, With which his feav'rous cares their cold increast. And now his dream (Hel's fireband) still more bright, Shew'd him his feares, and kill'd him with the sight. LXIV. No sooner therefore shall the Morning see (Night hangs yet heavy on the lids of Day) But all the counsellours must summon'd bee, To meet their troubled lord: without delay Heralds and messengers immediately Are sent about, who poasting every way To th' heads and officers of every band, Declare who sends, and what is his command. LXV. Why art thou troubled, Herod? what vaine feare Thy blood-revolving brest to rage doth move? Heaven's King, Who doffs Himselfe weak flesh to weare, Comes not to rule in wrath, but serve in love. Nor would He this thy fear'd crown from thee teare, But give thee a better with Himselfe above. Poor jealousie! why should He wish to prey Vpon thy crowne, Who gives His owne away? LXVI. Make to thy reason, man, and mock thy doubts, Looke how below thy feares their causes are; Thou art a souldier, Herod; send thy scouts, See how Hee's furnish't for so fear'd a warre? What armour does He weare? A few thin clouts. His trumpets? tender cries; His men to dare So much? rude shepheards: what His steeds? alas Poore beasts! a slow oxe and a simple asse. _Il fine del primo Libro._ NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. See our Essay for critical remarks on the original and CRASHAW'S interpretation. These things may be recorded: St. viii. line 6. '(His shop of flames) he _fries_ himself.' This verb 'fries,' like 'stick' and some others, had not in Elizabethan times and later, that colloquial, and therefore in such a context ludicrous, sound that it has to us. In MARLOWE'S or JONSON'S translation of Ovid's fifteenth elegy (book i.) the two lines which originally ran thus, 'Lofty Lucretius shall live that hour That Nature shall dissolve this earthly bower,' were afterwards altered by JONSON himself to, 'Then shall Lucretius' lofty numbers die, When earth and seas in fire and flame shall _frie_.'