All the world's bravery that delights our eyes, Is but thy sev'ral liveries, Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st, Thy nimble pencil paints this landskip as thou go'st. XIX. A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st; A crown of studded gold thou bear'st, The virgin lillies in their white, Are clad but with the lawn of almost naked light. XX. The Violet, spring's little infant, stands, Girt in thy purple swadling-bands: On the fair Tulip thou dost dote; Thou cloath'st it in a gay and party-colour'd coat. XXI. With flame condens'd thou dost the jewels fix, And solid colours in it mix: Flora herself, envies to see Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as she. XXII. Ah, goddess! would thou could'st thy hand with-hold, And be less liberal to gold; Didst thou less value to it give, Of how much care (alas) might'st thou poor man relieve! XXIII. To me the sun is more delightful far, And all fair days much fairer are; But few, ah wondrous few there be, Who do not Gold prefer, O goddess, ev'n to thee. XXIV. Thro' the soft ways of Heav'n, and air, and sea, Which open all their pores to thee, Like a clear river thou dost glide, And with thy living stream through the close channels slide. XXV. But where firm bodies thy free course oppose, Gently thy source the land overflows; Takes there possession, and does make, Of colours mingled light, a thick and standing lake. XXVI. But the vast ocean of unbounded day In th'Empyraean heav'n does stay; Thy rivers, lakes, and springs below, From thence took first their rise, thither at last must flow. Footnotes: 1. Wood's Fasti Oxon, vol. ii. col. 120. 2. Essay on himself. 3. Sprat's Account of Cowley. * * * * * Sir WILLIAM DAVENANT.