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And still at my Sabinum I delight
But thou, dear vine, forbid'at me to be long, To treat my neighbours till the depth of night. Although thy trunk be neither large nor frong, But we the sense of gust and pleasure want, Nor can thy head (not helpt) itself sublime, Which youth at full possesses, this I grant; Yet, like a serpent, a tall tree can climb; But age fecks not the things which youth re- Whate'er thy many fingers can entwine, quires,
Prove thy support, and all its strength is thine. Ant no man needs that which he not desires. Though nature gave not legs, it gave thee hands, When Sophocles was ask'd, if he deny'd By which thy prop the proudeft cedar stands: Himself the use of pleasures, he reply'd,
As thou haft hands, fo hath thy offspring wings I humbly thank th' immortal gods, who me And to the highest part of mortals springs. From that fierce tyrant's inlolence set free. But left thon should’st consume thy wealth in vain, But they, whom presling appetites constrain, And starve thyself to feed a numerous train, Grieve when they cannot their desires obtain. Or like the bee (sweet as thy blood) design'd Young men the use of pleasure understand, To be destroy'd to propagate his kind, As of an ohject new, and near at hand :
Left thy redundant and superfluous juice Though this itands more remote from age's sight Should fading leaves instead of fruits produce, Yet they behold it not without delight : The pruner's hand, with letting blood, must As ancient soldiers, from their duties eas'd,
quench With sense of honour and rewards are pleas'd ; Thy heat, and thy exuberant parts retrench : So from anıbitious hopes and lusts relealt, Then from the joints of thy prolific ftem Delighted with itself, our age doft rest
A swelling knot is raised (call’d a gem), No part of life's more happy, when with bread Whence, in short space, itself the cluster shows, Of ancient knowledge, and new learning fed. And from earth's moisture mixt with sun-beans All youthsul pleasures by degrees niuft cease:
grows. But those of age ev’n with our years increase. l'th'spring, like youth, it yields an acid tate, We love not loaded buards, and goblets crown'd, But summer doth, like age, the fourncís waste; But free from surfeits our repose is found.
Then cloath'd with leaves, from heat and cold When old Fabricius to the Samnites went,
fecure, Ambaffador, from Rome to Pyrrhus sent, Like virgins, sweet, and beauteous, when mature. He heard a grave philofopher maintain, On fruits, flowers, herbs, and plants, I long could That all the actions of our life were vain,
dwell, Which with our sense of pleasure not conspir'd; At once to please my eye, my tafte, my smell; Fabricius the philosopher desir'd,
My walks of trees, all planted by my hand, That he to Pyrrhus would that maxim teach, Like children of my own begetting stand. And to the Samnites the fame doctrine preach; To tell the several natures of each earth, Then of their conqueft he should doubt no more, What fruits from each most properly take birth: Whom their own pleasures overcame before. And with what arts to enrich every mold, Now into rustic matters I must fall,
The dry to moisten, and to warm the cold. Which pleasure seems to me the chief of all, But when we graft, or buds inoculate, Age no impediment to those can give,
Nature by art we nobly meliorate; Who wisely by the rules of nature live. As Orpheus' music wildest beasts did tame, Earth (though our mother) cheerfully obeys From the sour crab the sweetest apple came : All the commands her race upon her lays. The mother to the daughter goes to school, For whatsoever from our hand she takes,
The species changed, deth her laws o'er-rule; Greater or less, a vast return she makes.
Nature herself doth from herself depart, Nor am I only pleas'd with that resource, (Strange transmigration!) by the power of at. But with her ways, her method, and her force : How little things give law to great! we ice The feed her hofom (hy the plough made fit) The small bud captivates the greatest tree. Receives, where kindly she embraces it,
Here even the power divine we imitate, Which, with her yenuine warmth diffus'd and And seem not to beget, but to create. sprcad,
Much was I pleas'd with fowls and beasts, the Sends forth betimes a green and tender head, Then gives it motion, life, and nourishment, For food and profit, and the wild for game. Which from the root through nerves and veins Excuse me when this pleasant suring I touch, are sent,
(For age, of what delights it, speaks too much) Streight in a hollow sheath upright it grows, Who twice victorious Pyrrhus conquered, And, form receiving, doth itfelf disclose : The Sabines and the Samnites captive led, Drawn up in ranks and files, the bearded spikes Great Curius, his remaining days did fpend, Guard it from birds, as with a stand of pikes. And in this happy life his triumphs end. When of the vine I speak, I seem inspir’d, My farm stands near, and when I there retire, And with delight, as with her juice, am fir'd; His and that age's temper I admire : At nature's god-like power I stand amaz'd, The Samnites chiefs, as hy his fire he fate, Which fuch vast bodics hath from atoms rais'd. With a vast sum of gold on hinı did wait; The kernel of a grape, the fig's small grain, Return, said he, your gold I nothing weigh, Can cloath a mountain, and v'ershade a plain : When those, who can command it, me obey :
This my assertion proves, he may be old,
So age's gravity may seem fevere, And yet not fordid, who refuses gold.
But nothing harsh or bitter ought t' appear. In fummer to fit still, or walk, I love,
Of age's avarice I cannot see Ncar a cool fountain, or a shady grove.
What colour, ground, or reason there should be : What can in winter render more delight, Is it not folly, when the way we ride Than the high fun at noon, and fire at night? Is short, for a long voyage to provide ? While our old friends and neighbours feast and To avarice some title youth may own, play,
To reap in autumn what the spring had fown; And with their harmless mirth tạrn night to day, And with the providence of bees, or ants, Unpurchas'd plenty our full tables loads,
Prevent with summer's plenty, winter's wants,
And to avoid a mischief makes it sure.
THE FOURTH PART.
OW against (that which terrifies our age)
To her, grim death appears in all her shapes, Which easy, common, and but light appear,
The hungry grave for her due tribute gapes. Salutes, consulting, compliment, resort,
Fond, foolish man! with fear of death surpriz'd, Crouding attendance to, and from the court .
Which either should be wilh'd for, or despis'd; And not on Rome alone this honour waits,
This, if our fouls with bodics death destroy; But on all civil and well-govern'u frates.
That, if our fouls a second life enjoy. Lysander pleading in his city's praise,
What else is to be fcar'd; when we shall gain From thence his strongest arguments did raise,
Eternal lise, or have no sense of pain ? That Sparta did with honour age support,
The youngest in the morning are not sure, Paying them just refpect at stage, and court.
That till the night their life they can secure, But at proud Athens youth did age out-face,
Their age stands more expos'd to accidents Nor at the plays would rise, or give them place.
Than ours, nor common care their fate prevents: When an Athenian stranger of great age
Death's force (with terror) against nature strivce, Arriv'd at Sparta, climbing up the stage,
Nor one of many to ripe age arrives: To him the whole alicmbly rose, and ran
Froia this ill fate the world's disorders rise, To place and ease this old and reverend man,
For if all men were old they would be wise ; Who thus his thanks returns, Th' Athenians know Years and experience our forefathers taught, What's to be done ; but what they know, not do.
Them under laws, and into cities brought : Here our great senate's orders ) may quete,
Why only should the fear of death belong The first in age is still the first in vote.
To age, which is as common to the young? Nor honour, nor high birth, nor great command
Your hopeful brothers, and my fon, to you la competition with great years may stand.
(Scipio) and me, this maxim makes too true : Why hould our youth's short traulicnt pleasures But vigorous youth may his gay thoughts creat
To inany years,
must not expect; With age's lasting honours to compare?
But when he fees his airy hopes decciv'd; On the world's stage, when our applause grows
With grief he says, Who this would have believ'd? high,
We happier are than they, who but desir'd For acting here life's tragic-comedy,
To poffefs that, which we long since acquir'd. 'The lookers-on will say we act not well,
What if our age to Nestor's could extend? Unless the last the fornier scenes cxccl:
"Tis vain to think that lasting, which muit end; But age is froward, uncasy, fcrutinons,
And when 'tis past, not any part remains Hard to be pleas’d, and parfimonious;
Thercof, but the reward which virtue gains. But all those errors from our manncrs rise, Days, months, and years, like running waters flow, Not from our years; yet some morofities
Nor what is post, nor wlrat's to come, we know : We must expeå lince jealousy belongs
Our date, how fort foe'er, must us content; To age of scorn, and tender sense of wrongs:
When a good actor doth his part present,
In every act he our attention draws,
So (though but short) yet we must learn the t'nlike, this harsh and rude, that smooth and fair. of virtue, on this stage to act our part; Our nature here is not unlike our wine,
True wisdom muft our actions so direct, Some forts, when old, continue brisk and fine;
Not only the last plaudit to expect : VOL. II,