MASTER: Tacitus in red morocco, @3Sine anno, sine loco,@1 Though nor place nor date be hinted, Thou wast very early printed; Art Italian, if I err not, Though the colophon aver not; Printed surely long ago, Ere the wandering Angelo Found the @3Annals.@1 Say what lover Fondly conned thy pages over, Gave thee thy resplendent cover, Tacitus in red morocco, @3Sine anno, sine loco.@1 BOOK: Ay, 'twas in the Middle Ages When I fluttered first my pages, Like a bird without a rival, At the Humanist revival, At the second birth of letters: We old volumes had no betters, We the first fruits of the press. Me Melanchthon did possess, And to Heidelberg he took me, Where incurious he forsook me; Yet by scholars long I tarried, And a-down the Rhine stream carried On a trekschuyt entered Holland, Where, amid the learned Lowland, Later did that prince of sages, Oudendorpius, turn my pages. Dying, to his heirs he left me Who of my whole skin bereft me, Cast me as a brand to burning; But an Englishman of learning, Merit in sad plight discerning, Brought me safe to England over, Gave me my resplendent cover, Stamping on the red morocco, @3Sine anno, sine loco.@1 MASTER: Book, though all thy fellows perish, Thee I ever mean to cherish; I would put thee in a college, 'Mid the tomes of earlier knowledge, Where secure thou mightst have lodgement, Undisturbed till day of Judgement, @3Summo ustulandus foco, Sine anno, sine loco.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 18 by THOMAS CAMPION SONNET: 5 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE DISILLUSIONMENT OF TEN O'CLOCK by WALLACE STEVENS WHEN I PERUSE THE CONQUER'D FAME by WALT WHITMAN A SLEEPLESS NIGHT by ALFRED AUSTIN |