Or from th'Appollo that with bended bowe Did many a sharp and wounding shaft bestowe Amidst the Dragon Pithons scalie wings, And forc't his dying blood to spout in springs!

Then their greene bowes and Crownes of Olive wreaths, The Conquerors praise, they give me as my due.

There the laden bowes Offer their tempting burdens to your hand, Doubtful your eye or tast inviting more.

Chaucer describes his archer as carrying "a mighty bowe;" and the "cloth-yard shaft," which was discharged from this engine, is often mentioned by our old poets and chroniclers.