146
COWLEY'S ESSAYS.
Melted the maiden dread away,
Even in the secret scabbard where it lay.
The prudent Macedonian king,
To blow up towns, a golden mine did spring;
He broke through gates with this petar,
'Tis the gi'eat art of peace, the engine 'tis of war,
And fleets and armies follow it afar;
The ensign 'tis at land, and "tis the seaman's star.
III.
Creature to this disguisèd deity,
Yet it shall never conquer me.
A guard of virtues will not let it pass,
And wisdom is a tower of stronger brass.
The muses' laurel, round my temples spread,
Does from this lightning's force secure my head,
Nor will I lift it up so high,
As in the violent meteor's way to lie.
Wealth for its power do we honour and adore?
The things we hate, ill fate, and death, have more.
