BUTTERFLIES. 189 



" Is this the bound of power divine, 

 To animate an insect frame ? 



Or shall not He who moulded thine 

 Wake at His will the vital flame ? 



Go, mortal ! in thy reptile state, 



Enough to know to thee is given; 

 Go, and the joyful truth relate, 



Frail child of earth, bright heir of heaven." 

 Anonymous, 



Description of the Travels of a Butterfly, 

 BY Spenser. 



The woods, the rivers, and the meadows green. 

 With his air- cutting wings he measur'd wide; 



Nor did he leave the mountains bare unseen. 

 Nor the rank grassy fens delights untry'd. 



But none of these, however sweet they been, 

 Mote please his fancy, nor him cause abide. 



This choiceful sense with every change doth flit ; 



No common things may please a wavering wit. 



To the gay gardens his unstay'd desire 



Him wholly carried, to refresh his sprites. 



There lavish Nature, in her best attire. 



Pours forth sweet odours and alluring sights; 



And Art, with her contending, doth aspire, 

 T' excel the natural with made delights : 



And all that fair or pleasant may be found, 



In riotous excess doth there abound. 



