Abraham Cowley

“ When thy false beams o're Reason's light prevail,
By Ignes Fatui for North-stars we sail.
Brother of Fear, more gaily clad!
The merrier Fool o'th' two, yet quite as mad:
Sire of Repentance! Child of fond desire!
That blow'st the Chemics, and the lover's, fire,
Leading them still insensibly 'on
By the strange witchcraft of "anon!"
By thee the one does changing Nature through
Her endless labyrinths pursue,
And th'other chaces Woman, whilst she goes
More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows. ”

“ Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far,
That still or short, or wide thine arrows are! ”