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Of ointment in this place, now far more sweet
Than the occafion of thy death doft meet :
There Lilies with red Peonies find a room,
And purple Violets the place perfume;
Yea, noifome Devil's-turd, becaufe fhe knows
Her worth, into that sweet Affembly goes;
The milky Lettuce, too, does thither move,
And Waterlily, though a foe to love;
Sweet Ladies-glove with ftinking Horehound come,
And kind Germander, which relieves the womb;
Poley and Calamint, which on mountains dwell,
But against froft and fnow are guarded well;
Next vital Sage, well-join'd with wholesome Rue,
And Flower-de-luce, nam'd from its fplendid hue;
Then Hartwort (much more grateful to the deer
Than Dittany), with Wild-carots, enters there;
Confound and Plantain, frugal Herbs are they,
Who all things keep fafe under lock and key?
And Masterwort, whofe name dominion wears,
With her who an Angelic title bears;
Lavender, Corn-rofe, Pennyroyal fat,
And that which cats efteem fo delicate;
After a while, flow-pac'd, with much ado, [too,
Ground-pine, with her fhort legs, crept thither
Behind the reft Camomile could not stay,
Through ftones and craggy rocks she cut her way;
From Spanish woods the wholefome Vett'ny came,
The only glory of the Vettons' name;
Minerva's Plant did likewife thither hie,
And was companion to Mercury;
There fcarlet Madder, too, a place did find,
Drawing a train of its long root behind;
Thither at last, too, Dittany did repair,
Half-ftarv'd, and griev'd to leave the Cretan air;
With her the bold ftroug Sowbread caine along,
And hundreds more, in fhort, to them did throng;
Many, befides, from th' Indies crofs'd the main,
Plants that of our chill clime did much complain;
But Oxford's fame through both the Indies told,
Eas'd all their cares, and warm'd the nipping cold.
The Pigmy and gigantic fons o' th' Wood
Betwixt all thefe in equal fpaces stood,
Spreading their verdant glories round above,
Which did delight and admiration move.

The fcarlet Oak, that worms for fruit brings forth,
Which the Hefperian fruit exceed in worth,
Was there, good women's maladies to cafe,
And fprains, which we as truly call difeafe;
Her treacherously the Ivy does embrace,
And kills the tree, with kindness in her face;
Hardly in nobler fcarlet clad, the Rofe,
The envy of thofe ftately berries grows;
Near which the Birch her rigid arms extends,
And Savin, which kind finners much befriends;
Next them the Beech, with limbs fo ftrong and
large,

With the Bush purchas'd at fo fmall a charge;
Nor did the golden Quince herself conceal,
Or Myrrh, whofe wounds diftemper'd mortals heal;
Lafly (ye Plants! whom I forget to name,
Excufe me) Juniper, too, thither came,
And Laurel, facred to the fons of Fame:
Such rev'rend heads did the green Senate fill,
The night was calm, all things were huf'd and

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Each Plant, with lift'ning leaves, ftood mute to

hear

Their Pres'dent speak, and these her dictates were.

Mugwort (the Prefident) begins.

AFTER
ER long cold, grave Matrons! in this place,
For the good of our's (I hope) and human race,
This facred Garden we, whilft others fleep,
Blefs'd April's facred nights come here to keep.
Our thanks to thee, great father-Sun! we pay,
And to thee, Luna! for thy nurfing ray,
Who the bright witnefs art of what we say.
But the fhort moments of our liberty
(Who fetter'd at daybreak again must lie)
Let us improve, and our affairs attend,
Nor feftal hours, like idle mortals, fpend.
'Tis fit at this time we fhould truly live,
When winter us of half our life deprive.
Come then, from ufeful pains make no delay,
Winter will give you too much time to play.
And what a task you in the conqueft find,
How many foes Jove has to you affign'd,
By numerous and great fatigues you 'ave try'd,
And to th' opprefs'd kind aid have oft' fupply'd.
You 're generous noble, Female Plants! nor ought
The glory of your fex cheap to be bought:
The felfsame battles you must wage again,
Which will as long as teeming wombs remain :
But that to war you may fecurer go,

'Tis fit the foe's and your own ftrength you know.
Call the bright Moon to witness what you say,
Whilft each fuch tributes to their country pay:
Let each one willingly both teach and learn,
And first, I think, upon the menftruous source,
Nor let that move their envy or their scorn.
My conftant taik, 'tis fit me fhould difcourfe;
From what orig'nal fpring that Nilus goes,
Or by what influx it fo oft' o'erflows;
What will reftrain, and what drive on, the tide,
And what goods or what mischiefs in it glide:
See you its fecret mysteries disclose,
A thing fo weighty 'tis no fhame to expofe.
(As fcholars ufe) upon the bus'nefs fall.
She fpake, the reft began, and hotly all

Pennyroyal.

FIRST Pennyroyal, to advance her fame,
(And from her mouth a grateful odour came)
Tells 'em, they fay, how many ills that fource
Threatens, whene'er it ftops its purple coufe:
That foggy dulnefs in the limbs attends,
And under its own weight the body bends.
Things ne'er fo pleafant once, now will not pleafe,
And life itfelf becomes a mere difeafe:
Ulcers and inflammations, too, it breeds,
And dreadful bloody vomiting fucceeds. [breath,
The womb now lab'ring feems to strive for
And the foul ftruggles with a fhort-liv'd death;
The lungs oppreff'd hard refpiration make,
And breathlefs coughs foon all the fabric fhake:
Yea, the proud foes the capitol, in time,

And all the mind's well-guarded towers, elimb:

Hence watchful nights, but frightful dreams pro

ceed,

And minds that fuffer true, false evils breed.
Dropfy at laft the wearied life o'erflows,
Which floating from its fhipwreck'd veffel goes.
How oft', alas! poor, tender, blooming Maids!
(Before Love's pow'r their kinder hearts invades)
Does this fad malady with clouds o'ercaft,
Which all the longing lover's paffion blast?
The face looks green, the ruddy lips grow pale,
Like rofes tinctur'd by a fulph'rous gale:
To afhes, coals, and lime, their appetite
(A leathfome treat) their stomach does invite:
But 'tis a fin to fay the ladies cat
Such things; thofe are the vile diftemper's meat.
Thus Pennyroyal fpake, (more paffionate
In words than human voice can e'er relate)
At which, they fay, the whole Affembly mov'd,
Wept o'er the lofs of beauty once belov'd:
So that good company, when day returns,
The fetting of the Moon, their miftrefs, mourns.
She told the means, too, by what fecret aid
That conqu'ring ill did all the limbs invade;
Through the wombs arteries, faid fhe, it goes,
And unto all the noted paffes flows;

(Whether the womb's magnetic pow'r's the caufe,
As the whole body's floods the kidney draws,
Or that the Moon, the queen of fluid things,
Directs and rules th it like the ocean's fprings)
But if the gates it finds fo fortify d,
That the due current that way he deny'd,
It rages and it iwells; the grofs part ftays,
And in the neighb'ring parts the revels plays,
Whilt the more liquid parts does upward rife,
And into veins of purer nature fiics:
It taints the rofy channels as it goes,
And all the foil's corrupted where it flows:
The bare its journey through the cava takes,
And fierce attacks upon the liver makes;
And heart, whofe right-fide avenue it commands,
Whilft that for fear amaz'd and trembling ftands:
But the left region fo well guarded seems,
That in her walls fafe fhe herfelf efteems;
Nor ftops it there, but on the lungs does feize,
Where drawing breath itfelf grows a difcafe;
Thence through a fmall propontis carried down,
It makes the port, and takes the left-fide town.
What will fuffice that covetous difcafe,
Which all the heart's vait treasures cannot pleafe?
But avarice fill craves for more and more,
And if it all things don't enjoy is poor.
Th' aorta its wild legions next engage,
Elefs me! how uncontroll'd in that they rage!
The diftant head and heel no fafety knows,
Through ev'ry part th' unbounded victor flows;
But as the blood through all the body 's us'd
1o run, this plague through all the blood's diffus'd.
They all agreed; for none of them e'er doubt,
How life in purple circles wheels about;
That Plant they'd hifs out of their company,
Which Harvey's circulation fhould deny.

Dittany. DITTANY, though cold winds her lips did close, Put on her winter-gown, and up the rofe;

For what can hinder Grecian Plants to be
Rhetorical, when they occafion fee?
For Pennyroyal painting that disease,
Her nice and quainter fancy did not please.
She fpake to what the other did omit,
And pleas'd herself with her own prating wit.
If this dire poifon's force their duller eyes
Can't fee whilft in the body warm it lies,
Think with yourselves how it offends the fenfe,
When all alone, (nay dead) if driv'n thence;
Let dogs or men by chance but taste of it,
(But on dogs rather let fuch mifchiefs light)
Madness the tainted foul invades within,
And fordid leprofy roughcafts the skin;
Whilit panting dogs quite raving mad appear,
And thirst for water, but the water fear.
It ftabs an half-man by abortive birth,
And from the womb (Oh, horrid !) drags it forth.
Now fancy children born of fuch base blood,
Which gives the embryo poifon 'ftead of food;
Nor is this all; for corn and vines too know
Its baneful force, by which fields barren grow.
A tree, once us'd to bear, its fruit denies;
If young it fades, and if new born it dies.
Witnefs the Ivies: ('tis no fhame) to you
What good does their med'cinal virtue do?
Thee alfo, Rue! who all things doft o'ercome,
From this ftrong venom muft receive thy doom.
Plants dry and yellow, as in autumn, grow,
And Herbs as if they had the jaundice fhew.
Offended bees with one fmall touch it drives
(Though murm'ring to be exil'd) from their hives;
The wretched creatures leave their golden ftore,
And sweet abodes, which they must fee no more;
Nor do ftreng vats their vines within defend,
Which in their very youth draw to their end;
But I name things of little eminence;
The warlike fword itfelf makes no defence;
And metals which fo oft' have won the field,
To this effeminate diftemper yield.
For frequent bloodshed, blood now vengeance takes,
And mortal wounds cv'n in the weapons makes.
Beauty, the thing for which we women love,
Th' occafion of keen fwords does often prove;
Let then the female-plague thofe fwords rebate,
Yea, ev'n the mem'ry of what's fo ingrate.
Maids with proud thoughts, alas! themselves de-
Whilft each herfelf a goddefs does believe; [ceive,
Like tyrants they mifufe the pow'r they have,
And make their very worshipper their flave:
But if they truly would confider things,
And think what filth each month returning brings,
If they their cheating glaffes then would mind,
(Which now they think fo faithful and so kind)
How beautiful they are they needs must find.
The fmooth corrupter of their looks they taint,
Which long and certain figns at that time paint;
Each maid in that ftill fuffers the difgrace
Of being pois'ner to her own fweet face.
What an unnatural diftemper 's this,
Which ev'n to their own fhadows mortal is?

Thus fhe; and as much more she was about
To lay, the whole Affembly gave a fhout :
Through all the boughs, and all the leaves around
There went an angry, loud, and murm'ring
found

For they of women's honour tender are, Though the thereof had feem'd to take no care.

Plantain; or Waybread¶.

NEXT Waybread rofe, propt by her feven nerves,
Who th' honour of a noble houfe preferves.
Her nature is aftringent, which great hate
Of her among blood-letters does create.
But her no quarrels more than words engage,
Nor docs fhe ever, like mad mortals, rage.
I envy not the praifes which to you,
Ye num'rous race of Leachy kind! are due:
The purple tyrant wifely you expel,
And banishing fuch murdering blood do well;
Proudly he o'er the vital fpirits reigns,
And cruelly infults in all the veins;
Arms he of dreadful poifon bears about,
And leads of maladies a mighty rout.

But why fhould you fuch vain additions make,
And ills already great for greater take?
Whilft you fo tragically paint the foe,
More dreadful, but lefs credible they grow.
He leffens, that would raise an hero's fame
By lies, falfe praife- cloud a glorious name.
One Geryon flew, (a mighty feat) and he
Three bodies had; in this I can't agree;
You any monster cafily fubdue,

[had

But I fcarce think fuch monftrous lies are true.
Greek poets, Ditt'ny! you who oft' have read,
Keep up their art of lying though they're dead;
But what their countrymen once faid of you
Pray mind it, for I fear 'tis very true.
Let that which blasts the corn a geddefs be,
I cannot think her courfes e'er could be
So hurtful to the grain; and then, I'm fure,
A vat of lufty wine is more fecure
From danger, where a thousand danfels fit,
Than if one drunken beldam come at it.
None, 'caufe a taste of that rank blood they 'ave
But for the place from whence it comes run mad.
Madnefs of dogs moft certainly it cures,
As thy own author Pliny us affures.
Whether by women's touch the bee's annoy'd
I cannot tell; but maids fhould bees avoid.
Rue ought to let the fatal blood remain
Within its veffel, and ne'er force the vein,
If for her pains nought but her death fhe gain.
Thou, Ivy too, more careful ought'it to be
Both of thy felf and thy great deity.
But when the fays fwords' edges it rebates,
I could rejoice, methinks, and blefs the Fates,
If that be all the mifchief it creates.
I only wish a beauty might remain
Perfect, till that the looking-glafs would fain.
Bit I wafte time.By this fufficiently
Thele Grecian wonders are o'erthrown, that I
No woman fee of this dread poifon die.

}

At which the Bramble rofe, (whofe fluent tongue With thoiry the prefs arm'd is nearly hung) And faid, il ferpents have the gift to be, As much as thefe, from their own venom free; Nor would the bafilifk, whofe baneful eye All other kills, by his own image die.

The many virtues of Piarain are to be read in Pliny and Fernelles. The vidquyician Thenation wote a whore volume concerning

This mov'd 'em, and they quaver'd with a smile, Some wind you would have thought pafs'd by the while;

For by that Cynic fhrub great freedom 's fhewn, Which he by conftant ufe has made his own.

Waybread at this took pet, difpleas'd that the By fuch an one fhould interrupted be,

And fat her down; when straight before 'em all
Thefe words the Rofe from her fair lips let fall,
Whilft modeft baufhes beautify'd her face,
Like thofe in fpring that blooming flowers grace.

The Rofe.

Yor, Cretan Dittany! who fuch poifons mix
(For on my kinfman Wild-rofe l'it net fix)
With women's blood, fee what a fprightly grace
And ardent fcarlet decks their lovely face!
No flower, no, not Flora's felf to fight

Or touch than them appears more foft and white;
But at the fame time alfo take a view
Of man's rough prickly limbs and rusty hue:
You'll fay with Butchers'-broom fweet Violets

grow,

And mourn that Lilies fhould with Brambles go:
Then let their eyes and reafon textity
Whether pure veins their purer limbs fupply.
You cannot fay that dying-vat is bad
From whence a florid colour may be had;
But this, you'll fay, committed fome offence,
Or the juit Moon had never driv'n it thence.
No: you 're miftaken; it has done no wrong,
But all the fault lies in its copious throng;
'Tis therefore from the reft, by the great law
Of public latety, order'd to withdraw.
So, if a nation to fuch numbers rife,
That them their native country can't fuffice,
lo feek new lands fome part of them are fent,
And fufler, for their country, ban.fhment.
But why does womankind to much abound;
Oh! think not Nature e'er was lavifh found;
Nor does fhe lay up riches to the end
(Like prodigals) fhe more may have to spend.
Whate'er fhe does is good; what then remains?
No room for doubt, the thing itfelf explains.
This bloody vintage, fee, latts all the year,
And the fresh chyle duly does life repair;
The proffes ftill with juice fwell to the brink,
Of which their fill the hot male-bodies drink;
But temperate women feem to kifs the cup,
Nor does then heat fuck all the liquor up.
A vital treafure for great ufes he

Lays up, left Nature fhould a bankrupt be;
Left both the parents' fhares of mingled love
Too little to beget a child fhould prove;
Unless the mother fome addition made,
To perfect the defign they both had laid;
One part of it is red, the other white as fnow,
And both from fprings of the fame colour flow;
One wood you'd think, and th' other tones did
Whilft out of both a living houfe they build; [yield
The former of fuch poifoning arts accus'd,
In which you fancy venom is infus'd,
(Perhaps with this the fatal robe was dy'd
| Which Hercules had fent him from his bride)

The tender embryo's body does compose,
And for ten months to kind nutrition goes.
Nor is this all; but on the mother's breast
Again it meets the little infant guest;
Then chang'd, it comes both in its hue and course,
Like Arethufa through a fecret source:
Then from the paps it flows in double tides,
Far whiter than the banks in which it glides.
The Golden Age, of old, fuch rivers drank,
That fprang from dogs of ev'ry happy bank.
The candour and fimplicity of men

Deferv'd the milky food of th' infants then.
How juft and prudent is Dame Nature's care!
Who for each age does proper food prepare?
Before the liver's form'd, the mother's blood
Supplies the babe with neceffary food :

And when to work the novice Heat first goes,
In its new fhop, and searce its bus'nefs knows,
Its first employment is in fearlet-grain
(A childish task for learners) hilk to stain;
At last in ev'ry kind its fkill it tries,
And fpends itself in curiofities..
Now fay it venom in the members breeds,
With which her child the careful mother feeds.
Their bane to infants cruel ftepdames give,
Whilft mothers fuck from better fprings derive.
But how, you'll fay, does that which infants love
So prejudicial to their mothers prove?
"Tis lively whilft i' th' native womb it lies,
But by the veins flung out, decays and dies;
Then fhipwreck'd on the neighb'ring fhore it lies,
And gafping wishes for its obfequies;
This being deny'd, new ftrength it does recover,
And flies in vapours all the body over.

But what first tafte fruits from the tree receive,
When rotten they no natural fign can give;
So in pure feed the life's white manfion stands,
But furely Death corrupted feed commands,
Of Life Death's no good witnefs: do not think
A living man can like a carcafe ftink.
But you a running ftream (that duly flows,
And no corruption by long standing knows)
To be as hurtful in their nature hold,
As if from fome corrupted springs they roll'd:
But now do you go on, (for much you know,
Part falfe, I think, part very true) and shew
If any hurtful feeds you can defcry
In human bodies, (where they often lie)
How quickly Nature's orders they obey,

When to the blood the floodgates once give way.
The courfes this, perhaps, may putrify,
'Tis dangerous to keep bad company.

Is this the blood's fault? I'm no witch, I hope,
Though with my juice a man fhould poifon tope.
She ipake, and with ambrofial odours clos'd
Her fpeech, which many there, they fay, oppos'd.
At laft the Laurel's thoughts they all defir'd;
Th' oracular Laurel's words they all admir'd.

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Hear Dittany; fhe fays each woman's known
The moon to bring each month with poifons down.
Nor need we mingle Herbs or charms, each one
Medea proves in her own blood alone.

Yet the fair Rose, if all be true the as faid,
Each woman has in that a goddess made ·
From thence, the fays, life fpins its purple thread,
And tells you how the half-form'd embyro's fed.
But if my dear Apollo be not unkind,
Nor I in vain his facred temples bind,

Such blood, nor form, nor ourishment, fupplies,
And so that triumphs in falfe victories.
The many reafons here I need not tell,

Which me induce, this one will ferve as well:
Woman's the only animal we know

Whofe veins with fuch im:noderate courfes flow:
Yet every beaft produces young, we fee,
And outdoes mankind in fertilny.

How many do fmall mice at one time breed!
Scorning the product of the Trojan steed,
With what a bulk does your valt el'phant come!
She feems to have a castle in her womb.
Thy circuits, Luna! conies almost tell,
By kindling, near like thee their bellies fwell;
And yet their young no bank ef blood maintains,
Or nourishment that flows from gaping veins :
For when i' th' amorous war a couple vies,
A living fpark from the male's body flies,
Which the womb's thirsty jaws, when they begin
To feel and tafte, immediately fuck in
Into receffes, which fo turn and wind,
That them diffecter's eyes can hardly find:
In the fame chambers part o' th' female life
Keeps a brifk virgin, fit to make a wife;
Them Venus joins, and with connubial love
In mingled flames they both begin to move.
There redness, caus'd by motion, you may fee,
And blood, the sign of lo virginity,

Of their invention, blood, they're mighty glad,
And to inventions eafy 'tis to add :
The smallest spark 't is eafy to augment
If you can get it proper nutriment.
You need not introduce new flames befides,
Th' clixir by this touch rich ftore provides.
All fires, (provide them fucl) think it shame
To yield to Vefta's never-dying flame.

Thus the first generous drop of blood is bred,
Which proudly scorns hereafter to be fed.
With the feed's native white at first 't is fill'd,
And takes delight with its own stock to build;
But when that fails, then life grows burdenfome,
And aid it wifely borrows from the womb;
Herfelf the fluff the borrows, purifies,
And of a rofy fearlet colour dyes;
From whom the womb's full paps, with thirsty lips
Into its veiny mouths it daily fips.

Look where a child's new-born, how foon it goes,
And that food fwallows, which of old it knows :
Kindly it plays, and fmiles upon the breaft,
O'erjoy'd again to find its former feaft.
Shall Nature glut her tender young with blood?
No; that can't be their elemental food;

i hat, fure, would make them favage, were it fo,
And all mankind fierce Cannibals would grow:
I Nero's acts could hardly then difpraife,

Y

Nor would Orefies' fury wonder raife,
If mother's blood for wretched infants firft
By Heav'n's defign'd, to fatisfy their thirst.
Yet ftill that flux's caufe we don't reveal,
Which does fo cautiously its fering conceal.
A female brute whate'er her womb contains
Cherishes, vet no moon diffolves her veins.
Some qual'ty then we for the caule must find,
Which is peculiar to the female kind.
This is the only thing which I can tell,
1 hat man in form and softness they excel.
No horfe a mare outdoes, nor bull a cow,
If through this Io, through that Jove may low.
The lions favage are both he and fhe,
And in their aspect equally agree.

The fhe is no neater lick'd than rough he-bears,
Nor fitter to adorn the tarry spheres.
She-tigers have not than males more fpotted charms,
And fows are clean as boars whom thunder arms.
No painted bird for want of feathers fcorns
Her mate, but Heav'n them both alike adorns.
The fwans (who are so downy, foft, and white)
Leda can fcarce diftinguith by the fight.
In fithes you no difference can fee,
Both in the glitt'ring of their feales agree;
Venu in them, arm'd by their naked fex,
i ne darts of beauty needed not t' annex;
In them no killing eyes the conqueft gain,
Their fmell alone their triumphs can maintain.
But human race in flames more bright are try'd,
By reafon and refplendent heat fupply'd;
Nor is fruition their original,

(A paltry, fhortliv'd joy) oh, may they all
Perith who that alone true pleasure call.
Kind Nature beauty has on maids beftow'd,
And with a thoufand charms all o'er endow'd;
Men the with golden fetters chcie to bind,
And with fweet force their roving fouls confin'd:
Nor women made for beftial delight,
But with chafe pleafure, too, to rape the fight:
Hence that blood which after prefling fqueeze
Out of the groffer chyle, as dregs or lees,
And that which on the body and the chin.
With dulky clouds o'ercafts the hairy skin,
From their fair bodies conftantly the drains,
And Luna her commiffion for 't obrains:
But if thofe flimy floods, by cha fupprefs'd,
Exceffive heats to nutriment digeft
Manlike in time the women's checks become,
And they, poor Iphis! undergo t'y dʊom.
So Phacthufa, once to fmooth and fair,
Wonder'd to feel her face o'ergrown with hair;
Her hand the often blem'd, and for a glafs
She call'd, to look how 't was; but there, alas!
A bearded chin and lips fhe found, and then,
Blaming the glafs, felt with her hands agen:
Long looking, fhe her own firange vilage fear'd,
And farted when an unknown voice the heard.
Thus and much more (but who can all relate)
Apollo's Laurel did expatiate :

Hence to the wonders of the teeming bed
The way itself their grave difcourfes led :
Then Birthwort, Juno's Plant, the court com-

mands

To fpeak, who women lends her midwife hands

Willing enough to talk, her ftalk fhe rais'd, And her own virtues very boldly prais'd.

Birthwort.

GREEN berries I, and feed, and flowers, bear;
And Patroncis o' th' womb's my character:
But deeper yet my great perfection lies,
For as my chiefeit fruit my root I prize.
This Nature did with the womb's figure feal,
Nor fuder'd me its virtues to conceal :
Thence am I call'd Earth's Apple; such a one
As in th' Hefperian gardens there are none.
Had thus, fair Atalanta! then been thrown
Before you, when you ran, (I know you'll own)
Now you are married, it has fo iweet a face,
You for this fooner would have flack'd your pace,
Than that for which you lost your maiden race.
Hence in her own embraces mother-Earth
Retains and hugs it where the gave it birth,
Nor trufts dull trees with things of fo much
worth.

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Eafing all births, 'tis I the wonder prove
O'th earth our univerfal parents' love.
That poet was no fool, nor did he lie,
Who faid each Herb could fhew a Duty.
Nor fhould we Egypt's piety defpife,
Which to green gods paid daily facrifice.
Rome! why doft jeer? They are in gardens
And vegetable gods the fields adorn." (born,
What's Ceres elfe but corn, and Bacchus vines?
And every holy plain with godheads fhines.
And I Lucina am; for I make way,
And life's ftraight folding-doors wide open lay.
Oh! pardon, Luna! what I rafhly spoke,
That from my lips fuch impious words have broke.
In me, in me, Lucina! you remain,
And in difguile a goddefs I contain;
For in my root's Imall circle you inclofe
Part of thofe virtues which your wisdom knows.
Triumphant conquefts over Death I make;
Arms from myfclf, but power from thee, I take:
O'erfeer o' thy ways, the body's roads I clear,
And streets, as I that city's edile were.
Straight paffages I widen, ftops remove,
And every obftacle down headlong fhove:
The foul and her attendants nothing ftays,
But they may freely come and go their ways.
I alfo dry each fink and fenny flood,
Left the Iwift meflengers fhould flick i' th' mud.
But to my ftricler charge committed is
The pleasant, facred way, that leads to blifs.
When dawning Life Cimmerian night would leave,
And its relation, Day's bright rays, perceive,
I keep Death off the womb's ftraight paffages,
That them the watchful foe can ne'er pofiels.
You'd wonder (for great Nature, when the fhews
Her greatest wonders, nothing greater docs)
Which way the narrow womb, fo void of pain,
Such an unwieldy weight could e'er contain;
How fuch a bulk, forc'd from its native place,
Through fuch a narrow avenue fhould pafs.
When fuch cross motions teeming wombs attain,
Firft to delate, then fold themselves again;

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