Page:Essays - Abraham Cowley (1886).djvu/111

 This Avarice, the dog-star's thirst assuage; Everywhere else their fatal power we see, They make and rule man's wretched destiny;
 * They neither set nor disappear.
 * But tyrannise o'er all the year;

Whilst we ne'er feel their flame or influence here.
 * The birds that dance from bough to bough,
 * And sing above in every tree.
 * Are not from fears and cares more free,

Than we who lie, or sit, or walk below,
 * And should by right be singers too.

What prince's choir of music can excel
 * That which within this shade does dwell,
 * To which we nothing pay or give—
 * They, like all other poets, live

Without reward or thanks for their obliging pains.
 * 'Tis well if they become not prey.

The whistling winds add their less artful strains, And a grave base the murmuring fountains play. Nature does all this harmony bestow;
 * But to our plants, art's music too,

The pipe, theorbo, and guitar we owe;