XXV.

O that I had the Thracian poets harpe, For to awake out of th’infernall shade Those antique Caesars, sleeping long in darke, The which this auncient citie whilome made! Or that I had Amphions instrument, To quicken with his vitall notes accord The stonie ioynts of these old walls now rent, By which th’Ausonian light might be restor’d! Or that at least I could with pencill fine Fashion the pourtraicts of these palacis, By paterne of great Virgils spirit divine! I would assay with that which in me is To builde, with levell of my loftie style, That which no hands can evermore compyle.