Page:The Works of Abraham Cowley - volume 2 (ed. Aikin) (1806).djvu/152

Nature herself, whilst in the womb he was,
Sow'd strength and beauty through the forming mass;
They mov'd the vital lump in every part,
And carv'd the members out with wondrous art.
She fill'd his mind with courage, and with wit,
And a vast bounty, apt and fit
For the great dower which Fortune made to it
’Tis madness sure treasures to hoard,
And make them useless, as in mines, remain,
To lose th' occasion Fortune does afford
Fame and publick love to gain:
Ev'n for self-concerning ends,
’Tis wiser much to hoard-up friends.
Though happy men the present goods possess,
Th' unhappy have their share in future hopes no less.

How early has young Chromius begun
The race of virtue, and how swiftly run,
And borne the noble prize away,
Whilst other youths yet at the barriers stay!
None but Alcides e'er set earlier forth than he:
The God, his father's, blood nought could restrain,
'T was ripe at first, and did disdain
The slow advance of dull humanity.
The big-limb'd babe in his huge cradle lay,
Too weighty to be rock'd by nurses' hands,
Wrapt in purple swadling-bands;