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Du Bartas

His Divine Weekes And Workes with A Compleate Collectio[n] of all the other most delight-full Workes: Translated and written by yt famous Philomusus: Iosvah Sylvester

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Wilt Thou go hunt, th'old Lioness to help;

Cap. 39.


Or fetch-in prey to fill her greedy whelp,
When they are couchant in their Den, or watch
For passant Heards, their wonted Boot to catch?
Who, for the Raven, provideth timely Food;
When as her hungry greedy-gaping Brood,
Wandring about, and wanting what to eat,
Doe (croaking) call, and cry to Me for meat?
Know'st Thou the time when mountain Goats and Hindes
Doe yean and calue according to their Kindes)?
Canst Thou keep reckning of the Months they go,
And how their Burdens to their Birth-time grow;
When they but bow them, and forthwith let fall
Their tender Fruit, and all their Pains withall?
Who hath sent out the Wilde Ass, free to feed;
Or let him loose (from serving humane need)
Whose house and haunt I haue ordaind express
Within the brackie barren Wilderness?
He scorns the Cities multitude and noyse:
He reaks not of the yawning Drivers voyce:
The craggy Cliffs his shaggy Pastures been;
Where, off he croppeth what he findeth green.
Will th'Vnicorn thee willingly obay?
Or, will hee come vnto thy Crib, for Hay?
Will he be brought to harrow or to plow?
Or, will he bring thy Corn vnto thy Mow?
Wilt Thou presume of Him, for strength in fight?
Orleane to him, thy Labour to acquite?
Didst Thou bestow the Peacocks goodly Fan?
Or, gav'st Thou Feathers to the Stork (or Swan)?
Or, to the Ostridge her delicious Tress
(Th'ambitious Badge as well of War as Peace)
Who layes her egges, and leaues them in the Dust,
To hatch them there, with radiant Heat adust,
Without her help, or heed; lest Tread or Track,
Of Man or Beast them all to peeces crack:
Vnkindest Dam, the labour of her wombe
That dares annull; while Hers not Hers become:
So void I made her of Intelligence,
And kinde instinct of Natures Influence:
Yet, with her Wings and Feet so fast she skips,
That Shee the Horse and Rider both out-strips.
Hast Thou indew'd the Horse with strengthfull wonder,
And cloath'd his crest, and fill'd his brest with thunder?

946

Canst Thou affright Him, as a Grass-hopper;
Whose nostrils pride snorts Terrors every where?
He pawes the Plain, he stately stamps, and neighs,
And glad goes-on against the arm'd Arraies,
Disdaining Fear. For, for the Sword and Shield,
Dart, Pike, and Lance, He 'll not forsake the Field,
Nor turn his back (how-ever thick they shiver)
Nor for the Cross-bow, and the rattling Quiver.
He swallowes-vp the Earth in furious heat;
Nor will beleeue the Sound of the Retreat.
Among the Trumpets, sounds his cheerfull Laugh,
Ha-Ha-ha-ha: hee smelleth a far-off
The wished Battaile; hears the thundring Call
Of proud Commanders; and lowd Shouts of all.
Is 't by thy wisedom that the Hawk doth mew,
And to the Southward spreads her winged Clew?
Doth th'Eagle mount so high at thy Behest,
And build aloft (so neer the clowds) her Nest?
Shee dwels vpon the Rock and ragged Cliffe,
And craggy places the most steep and stiffe:
From whence, about to seek her prey she flies;
Which, from afar, her quick keen Sight espies:
Her young ones also, onely Blood doo suck:
And where the Slain are, thither doo they ruck.