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But when I thought all danger past.
His quiver empty'd quite at laft,
Inftead of arrow or of dart,
He fhot himself into my heart;
The living and the killing arrow
Ran thro' the skin, the flesh, the blood,

And broke the bones, and scorch'd the marrow,
No trench or work of life withstood.
In vain I now the walls maintain,
I fet out guards and scouts in vain,
Since th' en'my does within remain;
In vain a breaftplate now I wear,
Since in my breast the foe I bear;
In vain my feet their fwiftnefs try,
For from the body can they fly?

V. Age. OFT' am I by the women told, Poor Anacreon! thou grow'ft old, Look how thy hairs are falling all; Poor Anacreon! how they fall! Whether I grow old or no, By th' effects I do not know; This I know without being told, "Tis time to live if I grow old; "Tis time fhort pleafures now to take, Of little life the best to make, And manage wifely the laft ftake.

VI. The Account.

WHEN all the ftars are by thee told,
(The endless fums of heav'nly gold)
Or when the hairs are reckon'd all,
From fickly Autumn's head that fall,
Or when the drops that make the fea,
Whilft all her fands thy counters be,
Thou then, and thou alone, must prove
Th' arithmetician of my love.
An hundred loves at Athens fcore,
At Corinth write an hundred more;
Fair Corinth does fuch beauties bear,
So few is an escaping there.
Write then at Chios feventy-three,
Write then at Lefbos let me fee);
Write me at Lefbos ninety down,
Full ninety loves, and half a one
And next to thefs let me prefent
'The fair lonian regiment;
And next the Carian company,
Five hundred both effectively;

Three hundred more at Rhodes and Crete;
Three hundred 'tis, I am fure, complete;
For arms at Crete each face does bear,
And ev'ry eye's an archer there.

Go on,

this ftop why doft thou make? Thou think'ft, perhaps, that I mistake. Seems this to thee too great a fum ? Why, many thousands are to come; The mighty Xerxes could not boast Such diff'rent nations in his hoft. On; for my love, if thou be'ft weary, Muft find fome better fecretary. I have not yet my Perfian told, Nor yet my Syrian loves inroll'd,

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A MIGHTY pain to love it is,
And 'tis a pain that pain to mifs;
But of all pain the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.
Virtue now, nor noble blood,
Nor wit, by love is understood;
Gold alone does passion move,
Gold monopolizes love!

A curfe on her, and on the man,
Who this traffic first began!

A curfe on him who found the ore!
A curfe on him who digg'd the ftore!
A curfe on him who did refine it!
A curfe on him who firft did coin it!

A curfe, all curfes elfe above,
On him who us'd it first in love!
Gold begets in brethren hate,
Gold in families debate ;
Gold does friendship separate,
Gold does Civil wars create
Thefe the fmalleft harms of it!
Gold, alas! does love beget.

VIII. The Epicure.

FILL the bowl with rofy wine,
Around our temples rofcs twhie,
And let us cheerfully awhile,
Like the wine and rofes fmile;
Crown'd with rofes we contemn
Gyges' wealthy diadem.
To-day is ours; what do we fear?
To-day is ours, we have it here:
Let us treat it kindly, that it may
Wish, at least, with us to stay :
Let us banish bus'nefs, bauifh forrow;
To the gods belongs to-morrow.

UNDERNE

IX. Another. NEATH this myrtle shade, On flow'ry beds fupinely laid, With od'rous oils my head o'erflowing, And around it rofes growing, What should I do but drink away The heat and troubles of the day? In this more than kingly state, Love himself fhall on me wait. Fill to me, Love! nay fill it up, And mingled caft into the cup Wit and mirth, and noble fires, Vigorous health, and gay defires. The wheel of life no lefs will stay In a smooth than rugged way;

Since it equally doth flee, Let the motion pleasant be.

Why do we precious ointments fhow'r,
Nobler wines why do we pour?
Beauteous flow'rs why do we spread,
Upon the mon'ments of the dead?
Nothing they but dust can shew,
Or bones that haften to be fo.
Crown me with rofes whilft I live,
Now your wines and ointments give
After death I nothing crave,

Let me alive your pleasures have,
All are Stoics in the grave.

X. The Grafhopper.

HAPPY infect! what can be
In happiness compar'd to thee?
Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy Morning's gentle wine!
Nature waits upon thee ftill,
And thy verdant cup does fill ;
'Tis fill'd wherever thou doft tread,
Nature's felf's thy Ganymede
Thou doft drink, and dance and fing,
Happier than the happiest king!
All the fields which thou doft fee,
All the plants, belong to thee;
All that fummer-hours produce,
Fertile made with early juice:
Man for thee does fow and plow;
Farmer he, and landlord thou!
Thou dost innocently joy,
Nor does thy luxury destroy.
The shepherd gladly heareth thee,
More harmonious than he.

Thee country hinds with gladness hear,
Prophet of the ripen'd year!

Thee Phœbus loves, and does infpire;
Phoebus is himself thy fire.

To thee of all things upon earth,

Life is no longer than thy mirth.

Happy Infect! happy thou,

Doft neither age nor winter know:

But when thou 'ft drunk, and danc'd, and fung Thy fill, the flow'ry leaves among, (Voluptuous, and wife withal,

Epicurean animal!)

Sated with thy fummer feaft, Thou retir'ft to endless rest.

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Free from th' ill thou' ft done to me;
Who difturbs or feeks out thee?
Hadft thou all the charming notes
Of the woods' poetic throats,
All thy art could never pay
What thou 'ft ta'en from me away.
Cruel Bird! thou'ft ta'en away
A dream out of my arms to-day;
A dream that ne'er muft equall'd be
By all that waking eyes may fee:
Thou this damage to repair,
Nothing half fo sweet or fair,
Nothing half fo good can'st bring,
'Tho' men fay thou bring'ft the Spring

Elegy upon Anacreon, who was choaked by a grapéfone. Spoken by the God of Love.

How fhall I lament thine end,

My beft fervant and my friend?
Nay, and if from a deity
So much deify'd as I,

It found not too profane and odd,
Oh! my Master, and my God!
For 't is true, moft mighty Poet!
(Tho' I like not men fhould know it)

I am in naked Nature lefs,

Lefs by much than in thy drefs.
All thy verfe is fofter far
Than the downy feathers are
Of my wings, or of my arrows,
Of my mother's doves or fparrows
Sweet as lovers' freshest kiffes,
Or their riper following bliffes,
Graceful, cleanly, fmooth, and round,
All with Venus' girdle bound,
And thy life was all the while
Kind and gentle as thy ftyle:
The smooth pac'd hours of ev'ry day
Glided num'roufly away;
Like thy verfe each hour did pafs,
Sweet and short, like that it was.

Some do but their youth allow me,
Juft what they by Naturc owe me,
The time that's mine, and not their own,
The certain tribute of my crown;
When they grow old, they grow to be
oo bufy or too wife for me.
Thou wert wifer, and didst know
None too wife for love can grow.
Love was with thy life entwin'd,
Close as heat with fire is join'd;
A pow'rful brand prefcrib'd the date
Of thine, like Meleager's fate.
Th' antiperiftafis of age

More inflam'd thy amorous rage;
Thy filver hairs yielded me more
Than even golden curls before.

Had I the power of creation,
As I have of generation,
Where I the matter must obey,
And cannot work plate out of clay,
'My creatures fhould be all like thee;
'Tis thou shouldst their idea be.

They, like thee, fhould thoroughly hate
Bus'nefs, honour, title, ftate:
Other wealth they should not know
But what my living mines beftow:
The pomp of kings they fhould confefs
At their crownings to be lefs
Than a lover's humbleft guife,
When at his miftrefs' feet he lies.
Rumour they no more should mind
Than men fafe-landed, do the wind.
Wisdom itself they should not hear
When it prefumes to be fevere.
Beauty alone they should admire,
Nor look at Fortune's vain attire,
Nor afk what parents it can fhew;
With dead or old it has nonght to do.
They fhould not love yet all, or any,
But very much, and very many.
All their life fhould gilded be
With mirth, and wit, and gaiety,
Well rememb'ring, and applying
The neceflity of dying.

Their cheerful heads fhould always wear
All that crowns the flow'ry year.
They fhould always laugh and fing,

And dance, and strike th' harmonious string.
Verfe fhould from their tongue fo flow,
As if it in the mouth did grow;
As fwiftly anfw'ring their command,
As tunes obey the artful hand:
And whilft I do thus difcover
Th' ingredients of a happy lover,
Tis, my Anacreon! for thy fake
I of the Grape no mention make
Till my Anacreon by thee fell,

Curfed Plant! I lov'd thee well,
And 't was oft my wanton use
To dip my arrows in thy juice.
Curfed Plant! 'tis true I fee
Th' old report that goes of thee,
That with giants' blood th' earth
Stain'd and poifon'd gave thee birth.
And now thou wreak'st thy ancient spite
On men in whom the gods delight.
Thy patron Bacchus, 'tis no wonder,
Was brought forth in flames and thunder;
In rage, in quarrels, and in fights,
Worfe than his tigers he delights;
In all our heav'n, I think there be
No fuch ill-natur'd god as he.
Thou pretendeft, trait'rous Wine!
To be the Mufes' friend and mine:
With love and wit thou doft begin,
Falle fires, alas! to draw us in;
Which, if our courfe we by them keep,
Mifguide to madness or to fleep:
Sleep were well: thou haft learn'd a way
To death itself now to betray.

It grieves me when I fee what fate
Does on the best of mankind wait.
Poets or lovers let them be,
'Tis neither love nor poefy

Can arm against Death's fmalleft dart
The poet's head or lover's heart;
But when their life in its decline
Touches th' inevitable line,

All the world's mortal to 'em then,

As wine is aconite to men :

Nay, in Death's hand the Grape-flone proves

As ftrong as thunder is in Jove's.

THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE

TO

HIS FIRST BOOK OF PLANTS.

PUBLISHED BEFORE THE REST.

CONSIDERING the incredible veneration which the beft poets always had for gardens, fields, and woods, infomuch that in all other fubjects they feemed to be banished from the Mufes' territories, I wondered what evil planet was fo malicious to the breed of Plants, as to permit none of the infpired tribe to celebrate their beauty and admirable virtues; certainly a copious field of matter, and what would yield them a plentiful return of fruit, where each particular, befides its pleasant history, (the extent whereof every body, or, to speak more truly, nobody, can fufficiently understand) contains the whole fabric of the human frame, and a complete body of phyfic: from whence I am induced to believe, that thofe great men did not fo much think them improper fub-, jeas of poetry, as difcouraged by the greatnefs and almoft inexplicable variety of the matter, and that they were unwilling to begin a work which they defpaired of finishing. I, therefore, who am but a pigmy in learning, and fcarce fufficient to exprefs the virtues of the vile fea-weed, attempt that work which thofe giants declin'd! Yet wherefore fhould I not attempt? forafmuch as they difdained to take up with lefs than comprehending the whole, and I am proud of conquering fome part. I fhall think it reputation enough for me to have my name carved on the barks of fome Trees or (what is reckoned a royal prerogative) infcribed upon a few Flowers. You must not, therefore, expect to find fo many Herbs collected for this fardel as fometimes go to the compounding of one fingle medicine; thefe two little Books are therefore offered as fmall pills made up of fundry Herbs, and gilt with a certain brightness of ftyle; in the choice whereof I have not much laboured but took them as they came to hand, there being none amongit them which contained not plenty of juice, if it were drawn out according to art; none fo infipid that would not afford matter for a whole book, if well contracted. The method which I judged moft genuine and proper for this Work, was not to prefs out their liquid crude, in a simple

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I have added short Notes, not for oftentation of learning, (whereof there is no occafion here offered; for what is more eafy than to turn over one or two herbalifts) but because that, befide phyficians, (whom I pretend not to inftruct, but divert) there are few fo well versed in the hiftory of Plants as to be acquainted with the names of them all: it is a part of philofophy that lies out of the com mon road of learning. To fuch perfons I was to fupply the place of a lexicon. But for the fake of the very Plants themselves, left the treating of them in a poetical way might derogate from their real merit, and that fhould feem not to attribute to them thofe faculties wherewith Nature has en

dued them, (who ftudies what is best to be done, not what is most capable of verbal ornaments) but to have feigned those qualities which would afford the greatest matter for pomp and empty pleasure : for, becaufe poets are fometimes allowed to make fictions, and fome have too exceflively abused that liberty, truft is fo wholly denied to us, that we may not without hesitation be believed when we fay,

O Laertlade, quicquid dicam, aut erit, aut non. Hor. Serm. 25

I was therefore willing to cite proper witneffes, that is, fuch as wrote in loofe and free prose, which, compared with verfe, bears the authority of an oath. I have yet contented myself with two of those, (which is the number required by law) Pliny and Fernclius I have chiefly made choice of, the first being an author of unquestioned Latin, and the latter amongst the Moderns of the trueft fentiments, and no ill mafter of expreflion. If any except against the former as teo credulous of the Greckish idle tales, that he may not, safely be cre

dited, he will find nothing in this fubject mentioned by him which is not reprefented by all that write of Herbs. Nor would I have the reader, because I have made my Plants to difcourfe, forthwith (as if he were in Dodona's grove) to expect oracles, which, I fear, my veries will only refemble in this, that they are as bad metre as what the gods of old delivered from their temples to those who confulted them.

nifhed you with what is agreeable to your appe
tite, you ought to take it in good part that we
have ufed fuch moderation as neither to fend you
away hungry, nor cloy your ftomach with too
much faticty: to this you must add, that our at-
tempts, fuch as they are, may excite the industry
of others, who are enabled by a greater genius
and strength to undertake the very fame, or more
noble fubjects: as Agefilaus of old, who thought
he had made no great progrefs into Afia, yet be-
to Alexander for a glorious and entire conqueft.
Laftly, (to confefs to thee as a friend, for fuch I
will prefume thee) I thus employed myself not fo
much out of defign, as carried on by a warmth
of mind; for I am not able to do nothing, and
had no other diverfion of my troubles; therefore
through a wearifomenefs of human affairs, to these
more pleafing folaces of literature (made agreeable
to me by cuftom and Nature) my fick mind be-
takes itself; and not long after, from an irksome-
nefs of the fame things, it changes its course, and
turns off to fome other theme. But they prefs more
dangerously upon me, and, as it were, stab me with
my own weapon, who bring those things to my
mind which I declaimed fo vehemently against,
the use of exolete and interpolated repetitions of
old fables in poetry, when Truth itself, in the Sa-
cred Books of God, and awful regifters of the
Church, has laid open a new, more rich, and am-
ple world of poetry, for the wits of men to be.ex-
ercifed upon.

Having given you this account, if any fhall light upon this Book, who have read my former, publishing the first in that adventure, he opened the way ed not long fince by me in English, I fear they may take occafion, from thence, of reprehending fome things, concerning which it will not be impertinent briefly to clear myself before I proceed. In the first place, I foresee that I fhall be accufed by fome of too much delicacy and levity, in that having undertaken great fubjects, and after a day or two's journey, I have ftopt, through laziness and defpondency of reaching home; or poffeffed with fome new frenzy, have ftartled into fome other road, infomuch that not only the half, as they fay, but the third part of the tafk has been. greater than my whole performance: "Away," they cry, "with this defultory writer : yet with what fpirit, "what voice, threatening mighty matters, he

begins,

Of war and turns of Fate I fing..

"Thou fing of wars, thou Daftard who throwest away thy arms fo foon, or betakeft thyfelf to "the cneniy's camp, a renegade, before the firft

charge is founded! or if at any time thou ad"ventureft to engage, it is like the ancient Gauls, "making the onfet with more than the courage "of a man, and prefently retreating with more

"When thou thyfelf," say they," haft thus de

clared, with the approbation of all good men, "and given an example, in thy Davideis, for "others to imitate, doft thou, like an apoftate "Jew, loathing manna, return to the leeks and "garlic of Egypt? After the appearance of Chrift "himfelf in thy verfe, and inpofing filence on "the oracles of demons, fhall we again hear the

than that of coward; whereas he that has once "applied himself to a poem, as if he had married "a wife, fhould stick to it for better for worfe; "whether the matter be grateful and eafy, or harsh and almost intractable, ought neither to quit it "for tiresomeness, nor be diverted by new loves," voice of Apollo from thy profane tripod? After "nor think of a divorce, or at any time to relin

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quifh, till he has brought it to a conclufion, as "wedlock terminates with life." This is imputed to me as a fault; and fince I cannot deny the charges, whether I am therein to be blamed or not, let us examine.

"the restoration of Sion, and the purgation of it
"from moniters, fhall it again be poffeffed by
"the dreary ghofts of antiquated deities, and
"what the prophet threatened as the extremity
"of evils? Your Mufe is in this no lefs an object
"of fhame and pity than if Magdalen fhould
"backflide again to the brothel. Behold how the
"just punishment does not (as in other offenders)
"follow your crime, but even accompanies it.
"The very lowness of your fubject has retrench-
"ed your wings: you are faftened to the ground
"with your Herbs, and cannot foar as formerly
"to the clouds; nor can we more admire at your
"halting, than at your fabulous Vulcan, when
"he had fallen from the skies."

In the first place, therefore, that which is most truly afferted of human life is too applicable to my poetry, that it is best never to have been born, or, being born, forthwith to die; and if my Eilays should be carried on to their Omega, (to which the works of Homer, by a peculiar felicity, were continued vigorous) there would be great danger of their falling into dotage before that time. The only thing that can recommend trifles, or make them tolerable, is, that they give off feafonably, that is, fuddenly; for that author goes very much too far who leaves his reader tired behind him. Thefe confiderations, if I write ill, will excufe my brevity, though not fo easily excufe the under taking; nor hall my inconftancy in not finishing what I have begun, be fo much blamed, as my conftancy in ceafing not continually to begin, and being, like Fortune, conftent in levity. But if, Reader (as it is my defire) we have fur-Pfalm civ. ver. 14.

A heavy charge indeed, and terrible at the firft fight: but I esteem that which celebrates the wonderful works of Providence not to be far diftant from a facred poem. Nothing can be found more admirable in Nature than the virtues of feveral Plants; therefore, amongst other things of a most noble ftrain, the divine poet upon that account praifes the Deity, "who brings forth grafs upon the mountains, and herbs for the ufe of man," Nor do I think the liberty in

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