On a picture Painted by her self, representing two Nimphs of Diana’s, one in a Posture to Hunt, the other Batheing*
We are Diana’s virgin-train,
Descended of no mortal strain;
Our bows and arrows are our goods,
Our palaces, the lofty woods,
The hills and dales, at early morn,
Resound and echo with our horn;
We chase the hind and fallow-deer,
The wolf and boar both dread our spear;
In swiftness we outstrip the wind,
An eye and thought we leave behind; [10]
We fawns and shaggy satyrs awe;
To sylvan pow’rs we give the law:
Whatever does provoke our hate,
Our javelins strike, as sure as fate;
We bathe in springs, to cleanse the soil
Contracted by our eager toil,
In which we shine like glittering beams,
Or crystal in the crystal streams;
Though Venus we transcend in form,
No wanton flames our bosoms warm! [20]
If you ask where such wights do dwell,
In what blest clime, that so excel?
The poets only that can tell.