their crop.

VI.
Thus we unt[h]rifty thrive within earth's tomb
For some more rav'nous and ambitious jaw:
The grain in th' ant's, the ant<67.5> in the pie's womb,
The pie in th' hawk's, the hawk<67.6> ith' eagle's maw.
So scattering to hord 'gainst a long day,
Thinking to save all, we cast all away.

<67.1> A writer in CENSURA LITERARIA, x. 292 (first edit.)--the
late E. V. Utterson, Esq.--highly praises this little poem, and
says that it is not unworthy of Cowper. I think it highly
probable that the translation from Martial (lib. vi. Ep. 15),
at the end of the present volume, was executed prior to the
composition of these lines; and that the latter were suggested
by the former. Compare the beautiful description of the ant in
the PROVERBS OF SOLOMON:--"Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider
her ways and be wise: which having no guide, overseer, or ruler,
provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the
harvest.--PROVERBS, vi. 6-8.

In the poems of John Cleveland, 1669, is a piece entitled
"Fuscara, or the Bee Errant," which is of a somewhat similar
character, and is by no means a contemptible production, though
spoiled by that LUES ALCHYMISTICA which disfigures so much of the
poetry of Cleveland's time. The abilities of Cleveland as a
writer seem to have been underrated by posterity, in proportion
to the undue praise lavished upon him by his contemporaries.

<67.2> The Floralia, games antiently celebrated at Rome in honour
of Flora.

<67.3> Here used for DEAD OR FADED VEGETATION, but strictly it
means DEAD OR FADED LEAF. FILEMORT is another form of the same
word.

<67.4> Original has HER.

<67.5> Original reads ANTS.

<67.6> Original reads HAWKS.

SONG.

I.
Strive not, vain lover, to be fine;
Thy silk's the silk-worm's, and not thine:
You lessen to a fly your mistriss' thought,
To think it may be in a cobweb caught.
What, though her thin transparent lawn
Thy heart in a strong net hath drawn:
Not all the arms the god of fire ere made
Can the soft bulwarks of nak'd love invade.

II.
Be truly fine, then, and yourself dress
In her fair soul's immac'late glass.
Then by reflection you may have the bliss
Perhaps to see what a true fineness is;
When all your gawderies will fit
Those only that are poor in wit.
She that a clinquant outside doth adore,
Dotes on a gilded statue and n