128
COWLEY'S POEMS.
There silver rivers through enamel'd meadows glide,
And golden trees enrich their side;
The illustrious leaves no dropping autumn fear,
And jewels for their fruit they bear,
Which by the blest are gathered
For bracelets to the arm, and garlands to the head.
Here all the Heroes, and their Poets, live;
Wise Rhadamanthus did the sentence give,
Who for his justice was thought fit
With sovereign Saturn on the bench to sit.
Peleus here, and Cadmus, reign;
Here great Achilles, wrathful now no more,
Since his blest mother (who before
Had try'd it on his body' in vain)
Dipp'd now his soul in Stygian lake,
Which did from thence a divine hardness take,
That does from passion and from vice invulnerable make.
And golden trees enrich their side;
The illustrious leaves no dropping autumn fear,
And jewels for their fruit they bear,
Which by the blest are gathered
For bracelets to the arm, and garlands to the head.
Here all the Heroes, and their Poets, live;
Wise Rhadamanthus did the sentence give,
Who for his justice was thought fit
With sovereign Saturn on the bench to sit.
Peleus here, and Cadmus, reign;
Here great Achilles, wrathful now no more,
Since his blest mother (who before
Had try'd it on his body' in vain)
Dipp'd now his soul in Stygian lake,
Which did from thence a divine hardness take,
That does from passion and from vice invulnerable make.
To Theron, Muse! bring back thy wandering song,
Whom those bright troops expect impatiently;
And may they do so long!
How, noble archer! do thy wanton arrows fly
At all the game that does but cross thine eye!
Shoot, and spare not, for I see
Thy sounding quiver can ne'er emptied be:
Let Art use method and good-husbandry,
Art lives on Nature's alms, is weak and poor;
Nature herself has unexhausted store,
Whom those bright troops expect impatiently;
And may they do so long!
How, noble archer! do thy wanton arrows fly
At all the game that does but cross thine eye!
Shoot, and spare not, for I see
Thy sounding quiver can ne'er emptied be:
Let Art use method and good-husbandry,
Art lives on Nature's alms, is weak and poor;
Nature herself has unexhausted store,
