Begin, thou eldest sister of the crew,
And let the rest in order thee ensew.

CLIO.

Heare, thou great Father of the Gods on hie, 55
That most art dreaded for thy thunder darts;
And thou, our Syre? that raignst in Castalie
And Mount Parnasse, the god of goodly arts:
Heare, and behold the miserable state
Of us thy daughters, dolefull desolate. 60

Behold the fowle reproach and open shame
The which is day by day unto us wrought
By such as hate the honour of our name,
The foes of learning and each gentle thought;
They, not contented us themselves to scorne, 65
Doo seeke to make us of the world forlorne*.
[* Forlorne, abandoned]

Ne onely they that dwell in lowly dust,
The sonnes of darknes and of ignoraunce;
But they whom thou, great love, by doome uniust
Didst to the type of honour earst advaunce; 70
They now, puft up with sdeignfull insolence,
Despise the brood of blessed Sapience.

The sectaries* of my celestiall skill,
That wont to be the worlds chiefe ornament,
And learned impes that wont to shoote up still, 75