Page:The Universe, a poem - Baker (1727).djvu/38

The red-hot Bolt which splits the sturdy Oak,
Flies not more swift, nor gives a surer Stroke.
Her Young are feasted with the reeking Food,
And early learn to gorge themselves with Blood:
Their Nostrils snuff the Battle from a-far,
And they still bend their Flight to where the slaughter'd are.

'Tis He, bestows, delightful to behold,
The Peacock's Plumes, out-shining beaten Gold.
Lo! on the Ground with Scorn He seems to tread,
The various Glory waving o'er his Head.
Ambitious to be seen, with stately Pace,
He stalks, exulting, on the highest Place.
Proudly he spreads his Plumes against the Sun,
Disdaining by its Beams to be outdone:
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Green, azure, gold, his dazling Train displays,
Each Star emits a glitt'ring Stream of Rays,
And all flame forth around with one refulgent Blaze.

Observe