PROC. ENT. SOC. WASH., VOL. 24, NO. 7-8, OCT.-NOV., 1922 187 



And, after many a vain essay 

 To captivate the tempting prey, 

 Gives him at length the lucky pat, 

 And has him safe beneath his hat." 



Cowper. 



The poet then permits the insect to escape and mock the col- 

 lector, but the latter is entitled to at least a quiet smile, to think 

 of a " virtuoso " collecting butterflies with his hat ! But the pro- 

 fessional entomologist is not allowed to go entirely unscathed 

 either, as Edward Young has singled him out for ridicule: 



"But what in oddness can be more sublime 

 Than Sloane, the foremost toyman of his time? 

 His nice ambition lies in curious fancies, 

 His daughter's portion a rich shell enhances, 

 And Ashmole's baby-house is, in his view, 



Britannia's golden mine, a rich Peru! 



****** 



'Was ever year unblest as this?' he'll cry, 

 'It has not brought us one new butterfly!' ' 



Love of Fame. 



The Sloane mentioned by the poet is Sir Hans, founder of the 

 British Museum, a famous surgeon and naturalist, who, when a 

 young man, collected much natural history material in the West 

 Indies; while "Ashmole's baby-house" is nothing less than the 

 Ashmolean Museum at Oxford University, founded by the cele- 

 brated English antiquary, Elias Ashmole, who died in 1592. 

 Many of the earlier English poets pose as men of science, but 

 as a rule the cult has been antagonistic toward the development 

 of the natural sciences, which they ridiculed unmercifully. 



But enough of the Rhopalocera; we have yet to mention the 

 Heterocera, or moths. The "moth and the flame," of course, 

 come in for their share of notoriety, and the "death's head 

 moth," Acherontia atropos, which Hood calls: 



"That mystic moth, which, with a sense profound 

 Of all unholy presence, augurs truly. " 



has been instrumental in securing immortality for the Sphingi- 

 dae. However, as the moths are mostly creatures of the night, 

 whose origin and movements were largely a mystery, poets 

 usually have been content to refer to them in general terms; 

 hence they are "spotted moths," "painted moths," or merely 

 "soft moths that kiss the sweet lips of the flowers," etc. 



There is, however, one notable exception, and this is the silk- 

 worm. This strictly domestic insect we find mentioned in 

 English poetry beginning with Shakespeare: "Thou owest the 

 worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no 

 perfume." -King Lear. The last reference does not, as might 



