This is the _Poets-horse_; a _Palfray_, SIRS, (That may be ridden, without rod or spurres) Abroad, more famous then _Bucephalus_, Though, not so knowne, as _Banks_ his horse, with us; Or some of those _fleet-horses_, which of late, Have runne their _Masters_, out of their estate. For, those, and _Hobby-horses_, best befit The note, and practice of their moderne wit, Who, what this _Horse_ might meane, no knowledge had, Vntill, a _Taverne-signe_, they saw it made. Yet, this old _Emblem_ (worthy veneration) Doth figure out, that _winged-contemplation_, On which the _Learned_ mount their best _Invention_, And, climbe the _Hills_ of highest Apprehension. This is the nimble _Gennet_, which doth carry, Their _Fancie_, thorow _Worlds_ imaginary; And, by _Idæas_ feigned, shewes them there, The nature of those _Truths_, that reall are. By meanes of _this_, our _Soules_ doe come to know A thousand secrets, in the _Deeps_ below; Things, here on _Earth_, and, things above the _Skyes_, On which, we never fixed, yet, our eyes. No thorny, miery, steepe, nor craggy place, Can interrupt this _Courser_, in his race: For, that, which others, in their passage troubles, Augments his courage, and his vigour doubles. _Thus, fares the =Minde=, infus’d with brave desires; It flies through Darkenesse, Dangers, Flouds, and Fires: And, in despight of what her ayme resisteth: Pursues her =hopes=, and takes the =way= she listeth._ _The =Husbandman=, doth sow the Seeds; And, then, on =Hope=, till =Harvest=, feeds._ [Illustration: SPES ALIT AGRICOLAS:· ILLVSTR. XLIV. _Book. 2_]