To make their dwelling, in a Plumed-Crest,
A Morall is implyed, worth esteeme.
For, these inferre, mysteriously, to me,
That, Peace, and Art, and Thrift, most firme abides,
In those Re-publikes, where, Armes cherisht bee;
And, where, true Martiall-discipline, resides.
When, of their Stings, the Bees, disarm'd, become,
They, who, on others Labours, use to prey,
Incourag'd are, with violence, to come,
And, beare their Honey, and, their Waxe, away.