His victims; youths, and virgins, in their flower, Reluctant die, and sighing leave their loves Unfinish'd, by infectious Heaven destroy'd.
Such heats prevail'd, when fair Eliza, last
Supplants their footsteps: to, and fro, they reel Astonish'd, as o'ercharg'd with wine; when lo! The ground adust her riven mouth disparts, Horrible chasm; profound! with swift descent
Of Winchcomb's name (next thee in blood and Old Ariconium sinks, and all her tribes,
O fairest St. John!) left this toilsome world In beauty's prime, and sadden'd all the year: Nor could her virtues, nor repeated vows Of thousand lovers, the relentless hand Of Death arrest: she with the vulgar fell, Only distinguish'd by this humble verse.
But if it please the Sun's intemperate force To know, attend; whilst I of ancient fame The annals trace, and image to thy mind, How our forefathers, (luckless men!) ingulft By the wide-yawning Earth, to Stygian shades Went quick, in one sad sepulchre inclos'd.
In elder days, ere yet the Roman bands Victorious, this our other world subdued, A spacious city stood, with firmest walls
Heroes, and senators, down to the realms
Of endless night. Meanwhile, the loosen'd winds, Infuriate, molten rocks and flaming globes Hurl'd high above the clouds; till, all their force Consum'd, her ravenous jaws th' Earth satiate clos'd Thus this fair city fell, of which the name Survives alone; nor is there found a mark, Whereby the curious passenger may learn Her ample site, save coins, and mouldering urns, And huge unwieldy bones, lasting remains Of that gigantic race; which, as he breaks The clotted glebe, the plowman haply finds, Appall'd. Upon that treacherous tract of land, She whilom stood; now Ceres, in her prime, Smiles fertile, and with ruddiest freight bedeck'd, The apple-tree, by our forefathers' blood
Sure mounded, and with numerous turrets crown'd, Improv'd, that now recalls the devious Muse,
Aerial spires, and citadels, the seat Of kings, and heroes resolute in war, Fam'd Ariconium: uncontroll'd and free, Till all-subduing Latian arms prevail'd. Then also, though to foreign yoke submiss, She undemolish'd stood, and ev'n till now Perhaps had stood, of ancient British art A pleasing monument, not less admir'd Than what from Attic, or Etruscan hands A rose; had not the heavenly Powers averse Decreed her final doom: for now the fields Labor'd with thirst; Aquarius had not shed His wonted showers, and Sirius parch'd with heat Solstitial the green herb: hence 'gan relax The ground's contexture, hence Tartarian dregs, Sulphur, and nitrous spume, enkindling fierce, Bellow'd within their darksome caves, by far More dismal than the loud disploded roar Of brazen enginery, that ceaseless storm The bastion of a well-built city, deem'd Impregnable: th' infernal winds, till now Closely imprison'd, by Titanian warmth Dilating, and with unctuous vapors fed, Disdain'd their narrow cells; and, their full strength Collecting, from beneath the solid mass Upheav'd, and all her castles rooted deep Shook from their lowest seat: old Vaga's stream, Forc'd by the sudden shock, her wonted track Forsook, and drew her humid train aslope, Crankling her banks: and now the lowering sky, And baleful lightning, and the thunder, voice Of angry gods, that rattled solemn, dismay'd The sinking hearts of men. Where should they turn Distress'd whence seek for aid? when from below Hell threatens, and ev'n Fate supreme gives signs Of wrath and desolation: vain were vows, And plaints, and suppliant hands to Heaven erect! Yet some to fanes repair'd, and humble rites Perform'd to Thor, and Woden, fabled gods, Who with their votaries in one ruin shar'd, Crush'd, and o'erwhelm'd. Others in frantic mood Run howling through the streets; their hideous yells Rend the dark welkin; Horror stalks around, Wild-staring, and, his sad concomitant, Despair, of abject look: at every gate The thronging populace with hasty strides Press furious, and, too eager of escape, Obstruct the easy way; the rocking town
Urging her destin'd labors to pursue.
The prudent will observe, what passions reign In various plants (for not to Man alone, But all the wide creation, Nature gave Love, and aversion :) everlasting hate The Vine to Ivy bears, nor less abhors
The Colewort's rankness; but with amorous twine Clasps the tall Elm: the Pæstan Rose unfolds Her bud more lovely, near the fetid Leek, (Crest of stout Britons,) and enhances thence The price of her celestial scent: the Gourd, And thirsty Cucumber, when they perceive Th' approaching Olive, with resentment fly Her fatty fibres, and with tendrils creep Diverse, detesting contact; whilst the Fig Contemns not Rue, nor Sage's humble leaf, Close-neighboring: th' Herefordian plant Caresses freely the contiguous Peach, Hazel, and weight-resisting Palm, and likes T'approach the Quince, and the Elder's pithy stem; Uneasy, seated by funereal Yew,
Or Walnut, (whose malignant touch impairs All generous fruits,) or near the bitter dews Of Cherries. Therefore weigh the habits well Of plants, how they associate best, nor let Ill neighborhood corrupt thy hopeful graffs. Wouldst thou thy vats with gen'rous juice should froth?
Respect thy orchats; think not, that the trees Spontaneous will produce an wholesome draught. Let Art correct thy breed from parent bough A cion meetly sever: after, force
A way into the crabstock's close-wrought grain By wedges, and within the living wound Inclose the foster twig; nor over-nice Refuse with thy own hands around to spread The binding clay: ere-long their differing veins Unite, and kindly nourishment convey To the new pupil; now he shoots his arms With quickest growth; now shake the teeming trunk, Down rain th' empurpled balls, ambrosial fruit. Whether the Wilding's fibres are contriv'd To draw th' earth's purest spirit, and resist Its feculence, which in more porous stocks Of cider-plants finds passage free, or else The native verjuice of the Crab, deriv'd Through th' infix'd graff, a grateful mixture forms Of tart and sweet; whatever be the cause,
This doubtful progeny by nicest tastes Expected best acceptance finds, and pays Largest revenues to the orchat-lord.
Be unassay'd; prevent the morning-star Assiduous, nor with the western Sun Surcease to work; lo! thoughtful of thy gain,
Some think the Quince and Apple would combine Not of my own, I all the livelong day In happy union; others fitter deem
The Sloe-stem bearing Sylvan Plums austere. Who knows but both may thrive? howe'er, what loss To try the powers of both, and search how far Two different natures may concur to mix In close embraces, and strange offspring bear? Thou 'lt find that plants will frequent changes try, Undamag'd, and their marriageable arms Conjoin with others. So Silurian plants Admit the Peach's odoriferous globe,
And Pears of sundry forms; at different times
Adopted Plums will alien branches grace;
Consume in meditation deep, recluse From human converse, nor, at shut of eve, Enjoy repose; but oft at midnight lamp Ply my brain-racking studies, if by chance Thee I may counsel right; and oft this care Disturbs me slumbering. Wilt thou then repine To labor for thyself? and rather choose To lie supinely, hoping Heaven will bless Thy slighted fruits, and give thee bread unearn'd? "Twill profit, when the stork, sworn foe of snakes, Returns, to show compassion to thy plants, Fatigu'd with breeding. Let the arched knife
And men have gather'd from the Hawthorn's branch Well sharpen'd now assail the spreading shades Large Medlars, imitating regal crowns.
Nor is it hard to beautify each month With files of party-color'd fruits, that please The tongue, and view, at once. So Maro's Muse, Thrice-sacred Muse! commodious precepts gives Instructive to the swains, not wholly bent On what is gainful: sometimes she diverts From solid counsels, shows the force of love In savage beasts; how virgin face divine Attracts the helpless youth through storms and waves, Alone, in deep of night: then she describes The Scythian winter, nor disdains to sing How under ground the rude Riphaan race Mimic brisk Cider with the brakes' product wild; Sloes pounded, Hips, and Servis' harshest juice. Let sage Experience teach thee all the arts Of grafting and in-eyeing; when to lop The flowing branches; what trees answer best From root, or kernel: she will best the hours Of harvest, and seed-time, declare; by her The different qualities of things were found, And secret motions; how with heavy bulk Volatile Hermes, fluid and unmoist, Mounts on the wings of air; to her we owe The Indian weed,* unknown to ancient times, Nature's choice gift, whose acrimonious fume Extracts superfluous juices, and refines The blood distemper'd from its noxious salts; Friend to the spirits, which with vapors bland It gently mitigates, companion fit
Of pleasantry, and wine; nor to the bards Unfriendly, when they to the vocal shell Warble melodious their well-labor'd songs. She found the polish'd glass, whose small convex Enlarges to ten millions of degrees The mite, invisible else, of Nature's hand Least animal; and shows, what laws of life The cheese-inhabitants observe, and how Fabric their mansions in the harden'd milk, Wonderful artists! But the hidden ways
Of Nature wouldst thou know? how first she frames All things in miniature? Thy specular orb Apply to well-dissected kernels; lo! Strange forms arise, in each a little plant Unfolds its boughs: observe the slender threads Of first beginning trees, their roots, their leaves, In narrow seeds describ'd; thou 'lt wondering say, An inmate orchat every apple boasts. Thus all things by experience are display'd, And most improv'd. Then sedulously think To meliorate thy stock; no way, or rule,
Of vegetables, and their thirsty limbs Dissever for the genial moisture, due
To apples, otherwise misspends itself In barren twigs, and for th' expected crop, Nought but vain shoots, and empty leaves, abound. When swelling buds their odorous foliage shed, And gently harden into fruit, the wise Spare not the little offsprings, if they grow Redundant; but the thronging clusters thin By kind avulsion: else the starveling brood, Void of sufficient sustenance, will yield A slender autumn; which the niggard soul Too late shall weep, and curse his thrifty hand, That would not timely ease the ponderous boughs. It much conduces, all the cares to know Of gardening, how to scare nocturnal thieves, And how the little race of birds that hop From spray to spray, scooping the costliest fruit Insatiate, undisturb'd. Priapus' form Avails but little; rather guard each row With the false terrors of a breathless kite. This done, the timorous flock with swiftest wing Scud through the air; their fancy represents His mortal talons, and his ravenous beak Destructive; glad to shun his hostile gripe, They quit their thefts, and unfrequent the fields. Besides, the filthy swine will oft invade Thy firm inclosure, and with delving snout The rooted forest undermine: forthwith Halloo thy furious mastiff, bid him vex The noxious herd, and print upon their ears A sad memorial of their past offence.
The flagrant Procyon will not fail to bring Large shoals of slow house-bearing snails, that creep O'er the ripe fruitage, paring slimy tracts In the sleek rinds, and unprest Cider drink. No art averts this pest; on thee it lies, With morning and with evening hand to rid The preying reptiles; nor, if wise, wilt thou Decline this labor, which itself rewards With pleasing gain, whilst the warm limbec draws Salubrious waters from the nocent brood.
Myriads of wasps now also clustering hang, And drain a spurious honey from thy groves, Their winter food; though oft repuls'd, again They rally, undismay'd; but fraud with ease Ensnares the noisome swarms; let every bough Bear frequent vials, pregnant with the dregs Of Moyle, or Mum, or Treacle's viscous juice; They, by th' alluring odor drawn, in haste Fly to the dulcet cates, and crowding sip Their palatable bane; joyful thou 'lt see The clammy surface all o'erstrown with tribes
Of greedy insects, that with fruitless toil, Flap filmy pennons oft, to extricate Their feet, in liquid shackles bound, till death Bereave them of their worthless souls: such doom Waits luxury, and lawless love of gain!
Howe'er thou may'st forbid external force, Intestine evils will prevail; damp airs, And rainy winters, to the centre pierce The firmest fruits, and by unseen decay The proper relish vitiate: then the grub Oft unobserv'd invades the vital core, Pernicious tenant, and her secret cave Enlarges hourly, preying on the pulp Ceaseless; meanwhile the apple's outward form Delectable the witless swain beguiles,
Till, with a writhen mouth, and spattering noise, He tastes the bitter morsel, and rejects Disrelish'd; not with less surprise, than when Embattled troops with flowing banners pass Through flowery meads delighted, nor distrust The smiling surface; whilst the cavern'd ground, With grain incentive stor'd, by sudden blaze Bursts fatal, and involves the hopes of war, In fiery whirls; full of victorious thoughts, Torn and dismember'd, they aloft expire.
Now turn thine eye to view Alcinous' groves, The pride of the Phracian isle, from whence, Sailing the spaces of the boundless deep, To Ariconium precious fruits arriv'd:
The Pippin burnish'd o'er with gold, the Moyle Of sweetest honied taste, the fair Permain
Was of the sylvan kind, unciviliz'd,
Of no regard, till Scudamore's skilful hand Improv'd her, and by courtly discipline Taught her the savage nature to forget: Hence styl'd the Scudamorean plant; whose wine Whoever tastes, let him with grateful heart Respect that ancient loyal house, and wish The nobler peer, that now transcends our hopes In early worth, his country's justest pride, Uninterrupted joy, and health entire.
Let every tree in every garden own The Red-streak as supreme, whose pulpous fruit With gold irradiate, and vermilion shines, Tempting, not fatal, as the birth of that Primeval interdicted plant that won Fond Eve in hapless hour to taste, and die. This, of more bounteous influence, inspires Poetic raptures, and the lowly Muse Kindles to loftier strains; even I perceive Her sacred virtue. See! the numbers flow Easy, whilst, cheer'd with her nectareous juice, Hers, and my country's praises I exalt. Hail Herefordian plant, that dost disdain All other fields! Heaven's sweetest blessing, hail! Be thou the copious matter of my song, And thy choice nectar; on which always waits Laughter, and sport, and care-beguiling wit, And friendship, chief delight of human life. What should we wish for more? or why, in quest Of foreign vintage, insincere, and mixt, Traverse th' extremest world? why tempt the rage
Temper'd, like comeliest nymph, with red and white. Of the rough ocean? when our native glebe
Salopian acres flourish with a growth Peculiar, styl'd the Ottley: be thou first This apple to transplant; if to the name Its merit answers, nowhere shalt thou find A wine more priz'd, or laudable of taste. Nor does the Eliot least deserve thy care, Nor John-Apple, whose wither'd rind, intrencht With many a furrow, aptly represents Decrepit age, nor that from Harvey nam'd, Quick-relishing: why should we sing the Thrift, Codling, or Pomroy, or of pimpled coat The Russet, or the Cat's-Head's weighty orb, Enormous in its growth, for various use Though these are meet, though after full repast Are oft requir'd, and crown the rich dessert? What, though the Pear-tree rival not the worth Of Ariconian products? yet her freight Is not contemn'd, yet her wide-branching arms Best screen thy mansion from the fervent Dog, Adverse to life; the wintry hurricanes In vain employ their roar, her trunk unmov'd Breaks the strong onset, and controls their rage. Chiefly the Bosbury, whose large increase, Annual, in sumptuous banquets claims applause. Thrice-acceptable beverage! could but Art Subdue the floating lee, Pomona's self
Would dread thy praise, and shun the dubious strife. Be it thy choice, when summer-heats annoy, To sit beneath her leafy canopy, Quaffing rich liquids! oh! how sweet t'enjoy, At once her fruits, and hospitable shade!
But how with equal numbers shall we match The Musk's surpassing worth; that earliest gives Sure hopes of racy wine, and in its youth, Its tender nonage, loads the spreading boughs With large and juicy offspring, that defies The vernal nippings, and cold sideral blasts! Yet let her to the Red-streak yield, that once
Imparts, from bounteous womb, annual recruits Of wine delectable, that far surmounts |Gallic, or Latin grapes, or those that see The setting sun near Calpe's towering height. Nor let the Rhodian, nor the Lesbian vines Vaunt their rich Must, nor let Tokay contend For sovereignty; Phanæus' self must bow To th' Ariconian vales: and shall we doubt T' improve our vegetable wealth, or let The soil lie idle, which, with fit manure, With largest usury repay, alone Empower'd to supply what Nature asks Frugal, or what nice appetite requires? The meadows here, with battening ooze enrich'd, Give spirit to the grass; three cubits high The jointed herbage shoots; th' unfallow'd glebe Yearly o'ercomes the granaries with store Of golden wheat, the strength of human life. Lo, on auxiliary poles, the hops Ascending spiral, rang'd in meet array! Lo, how the arable with barley-grain Stands thick, o'ershadow'd, to the thirsty hind Transporting prospect! these, as modern use Ordains, infus'd, an auburn drink compose, Wholesome, of deathless fame. Here, to the sight. Apples of price, and plenteous sheaves of corn, Oft interlac'd occur, and both imbibe Fitting congenial juice; so rich the soil, So much does fructuous moisture o'er-abound! Nor are the hills unamiable, whose tops To Heaven aspire, affording prospect sweet To human ken; nor at their feet the vales Descending gently, where the lowing herd Chew verdurous pasture; nor the yellow fields Gaily interchang'd, with rich variety Pleasing; as when an emerald green, enchas'd In flamy gold, from the bright mass acquires A nobler hue, more delicate to sight.
Next add the sylvan shades, and silent groves, (Haunt of the Druids) whence the Earth is fed With copious fuel; whence the sturdy oak, A prince's refuge once, th' eternal guard Of England's throne, by sweating peasants fell'd, Stems the vast main, and bears tremendous war To distant nations, or with sov'reign sway Awes the divided world to peace and love. Why should the Chalybes or Bilboa boast Their harden'd iron; when our mines produce As perfect martial ore? Can Tmolus' head Vie with our saffron odors? or the fleece Bætic, or finest Tarentine, compare
With Lemster's silken wool? Where shall we find Men more undaunted, for their country's weal More prodigal of life? In ancient days The Roman legions, and great Cæsar, found Our fathers no mean foes: and Cressy's plains, And Agincourt, deep-ting'd with blood, confess What the Silures' vigor unwithstood Could do in rigid fight; and chiefly what Brydges' wide-wasting hand, first garter'd knight, Puissant author of great Chandos' stem, High Chandos, that transmits paternal worth, Prudence, and ancient prowess, and renown, T'his noble offspring. O thrice-happy peer! That, blest with hoary vigor, view'st thyself Fresh blooming in thy generous son; whose lips, Flowing with nervous eloquence exact, Charm the wise senate, and attention win In deepest councils:. Ariconium pleas'd, Him, as her chosen worthy, first salutes. Him on th' Iberian, on the Gallic shore, Him hardy Britons bless; his faithful hand Conveys new courage from afar, nor more The general's conduct, than his care avails.
Thee also, glorious branch of Cecil's line, This country claims; with pride and joy to thee Thy Alterennis calls: yet she endures Patient thy absence, since thy prudent choice Has fix'd thee in the Muses' fairest seat,* Where Aldricht reigns, and from his endless store of universal knowledge still supplies
His noble care: he generous thoughts instils Of true nobility, their country's love, (Chief end of life,) and forms their ductile minds To human virtues: by his genius led, Thou soon in every art pre-eminent Shalt grace this isle, and rise to Burleigh's fame. Hail, high-born peer! and thou, great nurse of arts, And men, from whence conspicuous patriots spring, Hanmer, and Bromley; thou, to whom with due Respect Wintonia bows, and joyful owns Thy mitred offspring; be for ever blest With like examples, and to future times Proficuous, such a race of men produce, As, in the cause of virtue firm, may fix
Her throne inviolate. Hear, ye gods, this vow From one, the meanest in her numerous train; Though meanest, not least studious of her praise. Muse, raise thy voice to Beaufort's spotless fame, To Beaufort, in a long descent deriv'd From royal ancestry, of kingly rights Faithful assertors, in him centering meet Their glorious virtues, high desert from pride Disjoin'd, unshaken honor, and contempt Of strong allurements. O illustrious prince!
t Dr. Aldrich, dean of Christ Church.
O thou of ancient faith! exulting, thee, In her fair list this happy land enrolls. Who can refuse a tributary verse
To Weymouth, firmest friend of slighted worth In evil days? whose hospitable gate,
Unbarr'd to all, invites a numerous train
Of daily guests; whose board, with plenty crown'd, Revives the feast-rites old: meanwhile his care Forgets not the afflicted, but content
In acts of secret goodness, shuns the praise That sure attends. Permit me, bounteous lord, To blazon what, though hid, will beauteous shine, And with thy name to dignify my song.
But who is he, that on the winding stream Of Vaga first drew vital breath, and now Approv'd in Anna's secret councils sits, Weighing the sum of things, with wise forecast Solicitous of public good? How large
His mind, that comprehends whate'er was known To old, or present time; yet not elate, Not conscious of its skill? What praise deserves His liberal hand, that gathers but to give, Preventing suit? O not unthankful Muse, Him lowly reverence, that first deign'd to hear Thy pipe, and screen'd thee from opprobrious tongues,
Acknowledge thy own Harley, and his name Inscribe on every bark; the wounded plants Will fast increase, faster thy just respect.
Such are our heroes, by their virtues known, Or skill in peace, and war: of softer mould The female sex, with sweet attractive airs Subdue obdurate hearts. The travellers oft, That view their matchless forms with transient glance Catch sudden love, and sigh for nymphs unknown, Smit with the magic of their cyes: nor hath The dædal hand of Nature only pour'd Her gifts of outward grace; their innocence Unfeign'd, and virtue most engaging, free From pride, or artifice, long joys afford To th' honest nuptial bed, and in the wane Of life, rebate the miseries of age.
And is there found a wretch so base of mind, That woman's powerful beauty dares condemn, Exactest work of Heaven? He ill deserves Or love, or pity; friendless let him see Uneasy, tedious day, despis'd, forlorn, As stain of human race: but may the man, That cheerfully recounts the female's praise, Find equal love, and love's untainted sweets Enjoy with honor! O, ye gods! might I Elect my fate, my happiest choice should be A fair and modest virgin, that invites With aspect chaste, forbidding loose desire, Tenderly smiling; in whose heavenly eye Sits purest love enthron'd: but if the stars Malignant these my better hopes oppose, May I, at least, the sacred pleasures know Of strictest amity; nor ever want
A friend, with whom I mutually may share Gladness and anguish, by kind intercourse Of speech and offices. May in my mind, Indelible, a grateful sense remain
Of favors undeserv'd!-0 thou! from whom Gladly both rich and low seek aid; most wise Interpreter of right, whose gracious voice Breathes equity, and curbs too rigid law With mild, impartial reason; what returns Of thanks are due to thy beneficence Freely vouchsaf'd, when to the gates of Death
I tended prone? if thy indulgent care Had not preven'd, among unbodied shades I now had wander'd; and these empty thoughts Of apples perish'd; but, uprais'd by thee, I tune my pipe afresh, each night and day, Thy unexampled goodness to extol Desirous; but nor night, nor day, suffice For that great task; the highly-honor'd name Of Trevor must employ my willing thoughts Incessant, dwell for ever on my tongue. Let me be grateful; but let far from me Be fawning cringe, and false dissembling look, And servile flattery, that harbors oft
In courts and gilded roofs. Some loose the bands Of ancient friendship, cancel Nature's laws For pageantry, and tawdry gewgaws. Renounce their sires, oppose paternal right For rule and power; and others realms invade With specious shows of love. This traitorous wretch Betrays his sovereign. Others, destitute Of real zeal, to every altar bend
By lucre sway'd, and act the basest things To be styl'd honorable: the honest man, Simple of heart, prefers inglorious want To ill-got wealth; rather from door to door, A jocund pilgrim, though distress'd, he'll rove, Than break his plighted faith; nor fear, nor hope, Will shock his stedfast soul; rather debarr'd Each common privilege, cut off from hopes Of meanest gain, of present goods despoil'd, He'll bear the marks of infamy contemn'd, Unpitied; yet his mind, of evil pure, Supports him, and intention free from fraud. If no retinue with observant eyes Attend him, if he can't with purple stain Of cumbrous vestments, labor'd o'er with gold, Dazzle the crowd, and set them all agape; Yet clad in homely weeds, from Envy's darts Remote he lives, nor knows the nightly pangs Of conscience, nor with spectres' grisly forms, Demons, and injur'd souls, at close of day Annoy'd, sad interrupted slumbers finds; But (as a child, whose inexperienc'd age Nor evil purpose fears, nor knows) enjoys Night's sweet refreshment, humid sleep sincere. When Chanticleer, with clarion shrill, recalls The tardy day, he to his labors hies Gladsome, intent on somewhat that may ease Unhealthy mortals, and with curious search Examines all the properties of herbs, Fossils, and minerals, that th' embowell'd Earth Displays, if by his industry he can Benefit human race: or else his thoughts Are exercis'd with speculations deep
Of good, and just, and meet, and th' wholesome rules Of temperance, and aught that may improve The moral life; not sedulous to rail,
Nor with envenom'd tongue to blast the fame Of harmless men, or secret whispers spread 'Mong faithful friends, to breed distrust and hate. Studious of virtue, he no life observes, Except his own; his own employs his cares, Large subject! that he labors to refine Daily, nor of his little stock denies Fit alms to lazers, merciful and meek.
Thus sacred Virgil liv'd from courtly vice, And bates of pompous Rome secure; at court, Still thoughtful of the rural honest life, And how t' improve his grounds, and how himself: Best poet! fit exemplar for the tribe
Of Phoebus, nor less fit Mæonides,
Poor eyeless pilgrim! and, if after these, If after these another I may name,
Thus tender Spenser liv'd, with mean repast Content, depress'd by penury, and pin'd
In foreign realm; yet not debas'd his verse By Fortune's frowns. And had that other bard,* Oh, had but he, that first ennobled song With holy rapture, like his Abdiel been; 'Mong many faithless, strictly faithful found; Unpitied, he should not have wail'd his orbs, That roll'd in vain to find the piercing ray, And found no dawn, by dim diffusion veil'd! But he however, let the Muse abstain, Nor blast his fame, from whom she learnt to sing In much inferior strains, grovelling beneath Th' Olympian hill, on plains, and vales intent, Mean follower. There let her rest awhile, Pleas'd with the fragrant walks, and cool retreat
O HARCOURT, whom th' ingenuous love of arts Has carried from thy native soil, beyond Th' eternal Alpine snows, and now detains In Italy's waste realms, how long must we Lament thy absence? whilst in sweet sojourn Thou view'st the relics of old Rome; or, what Unrivall'd authors by their presence made For ever venerable, rural seats,
Tibur, and Tusculum, or Virgil's urn, Green with immortal bays, which haply thou, Respecting his great name, dost now approach With bended knee, and strow with purple flowers. Unmindful of thy friends, that ill can brook This long delay. At length, dear youth, return, Of wit and judgment ripe in blooming years, And Britain's isle with Latian knowledge grace. Return, and let thy father's worth excite Thirst of pre-eminence; see! how the cause Of widows, and of orphans, he asserts With winning rhetoric, and well-argu'd law! Mark well his footsteps, and, like him, deserve Thy prince's favor, and thy country's love. Meanwhile (although the Massic grape delights, Pregnant of racy juice, and Formian hills Temper thy cups, yet) wilt not thou reject Thy native liquors: lo! for thee my mill Now grinds choice apples, and the British vats O'erflow with generous Cider; far remote Accept this labor, nor despise the Muse, That, passing lands and seas, on thee attends.
Thus far of trees: the pleasing task remains, To sing of wines, and Autumn's blest increase. Th' effects of art are shown, yet what avails 'Gainst Heaven? oft, notwithstanding all thy care To help thy plants, when the small fruitery seems Exempt from ills, an oriental blast Disastrous flies, soon as the hind fatigu'd Unyokes his team; the tender freight, unskill'd To bear the hot disease, distemper'd pines In the year's prime: the deadly plague annoys The wide inclosure: think not vainly now To treat thy neighbors with mellifluous cups, Thus disappointed. If the former years Exhibit no supplies, alas! thou must With tasteless water wash thy drouthy throat.
« ZurückWeiter » |