Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/401

 And knew the target which I in my left hand there did hold. Al things doo chaunge. But nothing sure dooth perrish. This same spright Dooth fleete, and fisking heere and there dooth swiftly take his flyght From one place to another place, and entreth every wyght, Removing out of man to beast, and out of beast to man. But yit it never perrisheth nor never perrish can. And even as supple wax with ease receyveth fygures straunge, And keepes not ay one shape, ne bydes assured ay from chaunge, And yit continueth alwayes wax in substaunce: so I say The soule is ay the selfsame thing it was and yit astray It fleeteth into sundry shapes. Therfore lest Godlynesse Bee vanquisht by outragious lust of belly beastlynesse, Forbeare (I speake by prophesie) your kinsfolkes ghostes to chace By slaughter: neyther nourish blood with blood in any cace. And sith on open sea the wynds doo blow my sayles apace, In all the world there is not that that standeth at a stay. Things eb and flow: and every shape is made to passe away. The tyme itself continually is fleeting like a brooke. For neyther brooke nor lyghtsomme tyme can tarrye still. But looke As every wave dryves other foorth, and that that commes behynd Bothe thrusteth and is thrust itself: even so the tymes by kynd Doo fly and follow bothe at once, and evermore renew. For that that was before is left, and streyght there dooth ensew Anoother that was never erst. Eche twincling of an eye Dooth chaunge. Wee see that after day commes nyght and darks the sky, And after nyght the lyghtsum Sunne succeedeth orderly. Like colour is not in the heaven when all things weery lye At midnyght sound asleepe, as when the daystarre cleere and bryght Commes foorth uppon his milkwhyght steede. Ageine in other plyght The Morning, Pallants daughter fayre, the messenger of lyght Delivereth into Phebus handes the world of cleerer hew. The circle also of the sonne what tyme it ryseth new And when it setteth, looketh red, but when it mounts most hye, Then lookes it whyght, bycause that there the nature of the skye Is better, and from filthye drosse of earth dooth further flye. The image also of the Moone that shyneth ay by nyght, Is never of one quantitie. For that that giveth lyght