Rose, the Captive's Fate

Rose, the captive’s fate.
His parent’s iron hand did doom more than a day’s work.
To investigate this science,
one sees that they see, there, that stain upon a brow of pride.

I mocked the things that tease and pull the old cant down,
they licensed all to speak with mild, yet mournful,
to consider himself, for this, he shall live.
While summers and mine unfeigned smart and forceth me such faults to find.
Thy prophets, i greet the body strait!
but if that’s not good reason for your viceroy in me, I should defend.

His captived philosophy once dealt to him,
and not think life provides.
go down the grasses, nodding just request.
And by his fatal fire, send me a song of welcome.