Grateful be this to my thought since thus thy friend I'm entitled,Hence of me seekest thou gifts Muses and Venus can give:But that bide not unknown to thee my sorrows (0 Manius!)And lest office of host I should be holden to hate, Learn how in Fortune's deeps I chance myself to be drownèd,Nor fro' the poor rich boons furthermore prithee require.What while first to myself the pure-white garment was given,Whenas my flowery years flowed in fruition of spring,Much I disported enow, nor 'bode I a stranger to GoddessWho with our cares is lief sweetness of bitter to mix:Yet did a brother's death pursuits like these to my sorrowBid for me cease: Oh, snatcht brother! from wretchedest me.Then, yea, thou by thy dying hast broke my comfort, 0 brother;