We are Diana's Virgin-Train, <br />Descended of no Mortal Strain; <br />Our Bows and Arrows are our Goods, <br />Our Pallaces, the lofty Woods, <br />The Hills and Dales, at early Morn, <br />Resound and Eccho with our Horn; <br />We chase the Hinde and Fallow-Deer, <br />The Wolf and Boar both dread our Spear; <br /> <br />In Swiftness we out-strip the Wind, <br />An Eye and Thought we leave behind; <br />We Fawns and Shaggy Satyrs awe; <br />To Sylvan Pow'rs we give the Law: <br />Whatever does provoke our Hate, <br />Our Javelins strike, as sure as Fate; <br />We Bathe in Springs, to cleanse the Soil, <br />Contracted by our eager Toil; <br />In which we shine like glittering Beams, <br />Or Christal in the Christal Streams; <br />Though Venus we transcend in Form, <br />No wanton Flames our Bosomes warm! <br />If you ask where such Wights do dwell, <br />In what Bless't Clime, that so excel? <br />The Poets onely that can tell.<br /><br />Anne Killigrew<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-picture-painted-by-her-self-representing-two-nimphs-of-diana-s-one-in-a-posture-to-hunt-the-other-batheing/
