166
COWLEY'S ESSAYS.
II.
Thou who art underground to lie?
Thou sow'st and plantest, but no fruit must see;
For death, alas! is sowing thee.
III.
And clip or pinion her wing;
Suppose thou couldst on fate so far prevail
As not to cut off thy entail.
IV.
Death will that foolish gardener mock
Who does a slight and annual plant engraff,
Upon a lasting stock.
V.
A mighty husband thou wouldst seem;
Fond man! like a bought slave, thou, all the while
Dost but for others sweat and toil.