001:01;000@@@@@|
001:01;007[W ]| Do'st thou not feele me, Rome? Not yet? Is night
001:01;007[W ]| so$5@1$ heauy on$4$ thee, and my weight so$5@1$ light?
001:01;007[W ]| Can Sylla's Ghost arise within thy walles,
001:01;007[W ]| Lesse threatning, then an earth-quake, the quicke falles
001:01;007[W ]| Of thee, and thine? shake not the frighted heads
001:01;007[W ]| Of thy steepe towers? or shrinke to$4$ their first beds?
001:01;007[W ]| Or, as their ruine the large Tyber fils,
001:01;007[W ]| Make that$6@2$ swell up$5$, and drowne thy seuen proud hils?
001:01;007[W ]| What sleape is this doth seize thee, so$5@1$ like$4$ death,
001:01;007[W ]| and is not it$6@1$? Wake, feele her$6$, in$4$ my breath.
001:01;007[W ]| Behold, I come, sent from the Stygian Sound,
001:01;007[W ]| As a dire Vapor, that$6@1$ had cleft the ground,
001:01;007[W ]| To$9$ ingender with the night, and blast the day;
001:01;007[W ]| Or like$4$ a Pestilence, that$6@1$ should display
001:01;007[W ]| . . .
