When

fair Aurora1

, dressed with radiant light,

Had triumphed o’er the gloomy shades of

night2

—

When she her

virgin beauty3

first

discloses4

,

Her dewy curls stuck full of

half-blown5

roses,

Lapped in a robe of silver mixed with gray,

Which did

prognosticate6

a glorious day–

Out flew the

active Amazonian maid7

.

The hills and dales not only she surveyed,

But out of every

gold-enamelled cup8

Her morning’s

draft9

of nectar she did sup.

Nay, where the toad and spider poisons found,

Mell10

she extracts; for this

her wisdom’s11

crowned.

On nightshade, henbane, hellish aconite,

On opium, hemlock she doth

safely light12

.

Thus being with

choice extractions13

loaded well,

She turned to fly to her

sexangular cell14

.

But

taking of15

my garden16

in her way,

Though full before, she could not choose but stay

To see the

curious17

auriculas18

dressed

More variously than

Iris’s19

dewy breast.

Then were my

tulips painted20

in their pride,

Which, when this

covetous21

insect espied,

To carry home her wealth she’d not the power

Till she had searched the sweets of every flower.

The sun, from whom all influence receives,

Bid

them22

decline; the tulip closed her leaves,

And in that painted prison shut the bee.

With her a

snail23

, who slid about to see

Where to get out upon her

unctuous24

breast;

But seeing no hope, she laid her down to rest,

Whilst the angry bee

did25

such a flutt’ring keep,

She nor her fellow pris’ner could not sleep.

But night being past,

Delia26

diffused27

his rays;

The tulip then her

gilded28

leaves displays.

Out slid the snail; the bee did fainting lie,

And thus with beating of herself did die.

Then let impatient spirits here but see

What ’tis to struggle with their destiny29

.

So

stout30

Biron31

in prison was enraged,

Knowing his king was to his sword engaged.

When

Belisarius32

by a dog was led,

Being blind, he patiently did beg his bread.

So

miscre’nt33

Bajazeth34

did show his rage

When that proud Tartar put him in a cage;

Scorning to be a footstool to his pride,

He dashed his curséd brains about and died.

When wise

Callisthenes35

, used with greater scorn,

Tyrannically mangled, so was borne,

He, being unmoved, showed his philosophy:

’Tis valianter by far to live than die36

.

Then if no hope of liberty you see,

Think on the snail, the tulip, and the bee37

.