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Try all the bounties of this fertile globe,
Misled from pleasure, even in quest of joy.
Is this for pleasure? Learn a juster taste;
But other ills th' ambiguous feast pursue,
What strife is brew'd, and what pernicious bane,
So Heav'n has form'd us to the general taste
Gross riot treasures up a wealthy fund Of plagues: but more immedicable ills Attend the lean extreme. For physic knows How to disburden the too tumid veins; Even how to ripen the half-labour'd blood: But to unlock the elemental tubes, Collaps'd and shrunk with long inanity, And with balsamic nutriment repair The dried and worn-out habit, were to bid Old age grow green, and wear a second spring; Or the tall ash, long ravish'd from the soil, Through wither'd veins imbibe the vernal dew. When hunger calls, obey; ; nor often wait Till hunger sharpen to corrosive pain: For the keen appetite will feast beyond What nature well can bear; and one extreme Ne'er without danger meets its own reverse. Too greedily th' exhausted veins absorb The recent chyle, and load enfeebled powers Oft to th' extinction of the vital flame. To the pale cities, by the firm-set siege And famine humbled, may this verse be borte. And hear, ye hardiest sons that Albion breeds. Long toss'd and famish'd on the wint'ry main; The war shook off, or hospitable shore
Attain'd, with temperance bear the shock of joy;
Nor crown with festive rites th' auspicious day;
Such feast might prove more fatal than the waves,
But though the two (the full and the jejune)
Most in the tender vegetable breed:
Untam'd, untractable, no harvests wave:
A generous pulp: the cocoa swells on high
To vapid life. Here with a mother's smile
Now come, ye Naiads, to the fountains lead; Now let me wander through your gelid reign. I burn to view th' enthusiastic wilds By mortal else untrod. I hear the din Of waters thund'ring o'er the ruin'd cliffs. With holy reverence I approach the rocks, Whence glide the streams renown'd in ancient song. Here from the desert down the rumbling steep First springs the Nile; here bursts the sounding Po In angry waves; Euphrates hence devolves A mighty flood to water half the east; And there, in Gothic solitude reclin'd, The cheerless Tanais pours his hoary urn. What solemn twilight! What stupendous shades Enwrap these infant floods! Through every nerve A sacred horror thrills, a pleasing fear Glides o'er my frame. The forest deepens round;
And more gigantic still th' impending trees The food, or gives the chyle so soon to flow. Stretch their extravagant arms athwart the gloom. But where the stomach, indolent and cold, Are these the confines of some fairy world?
Toys with its duty, animate with wine A land of genii? Say, beyond these wilds
Th’insipid stream: though golden Ceres yields What unknown nations :—if indeed beyond A more voluptuous, a more sprightly draught; Aught habitable lies. And whither leads,
Perhaps more active. Wines unmix'd, and all To what strange regions, or of bliss or pain,
The gluey floods that from the vex'd abyss That subterraneous way? Propitious maids, Of fermentation spring; with spirit fraught, Conduct me, while with fearful steps I tread And furious with intoxicating fire; This trembling ground. The task remains to sing Retard concoction, and preserve unthaw'd Your gifts (so Pæon, so the powers of health
Th' embodied mass. You see what countless years, Command) to praise your crystal element:
Embalm'd in fiery quintessence of wine, The chief ingredient in heaven's various works ; The puny wonders of the reptile world, Whose flexile genius sparkles in the gem,
The tender rudiments of life, the slim Grows firm in oak, and fugitive in wine;
Unravellings of minute anatomy, The vehicle, the source, of nutriment
Maintain their texture, and unchang'd remain. And life, to all that vegetate or live.
We curse not wine: the vile excess we blame; O comfortable streams! With eager lips
More fruitful than th' accumulated board And trembling hand the languid thirsty quaff Of pain and misery. For the subtle draught New life in you; fresh vigour fills their veins. Faster and surer swells the vital tide; No warmer cups the rural ages knew;
And with more active poison, than the floods None warıner sought the sires of human kind. Of grosser crudity convey, pervades Happy in temperate peace! Their equal days The far remote meanders of our frame. Felt not th' alternate fits of feverish mirth,
Ah! sly deceiver ! Branded o'er and o'er, And sick dejection. Still serene and pleas'd, Yet still believ'd! Exulting o'er the wreck They knew no pains but what the tender soul Of sober vows !-But the Parnasian maids With pleasure yields to, and would ne'er forget. Another time perhaps shall sing the joys, Blest with divine immunity from ails,
The fatal charms, the many woes of wine; Long centuries they liv'd; their only fate
Perhaps its various tribes, and various powers. Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death. Meantime, I would not always dread the bowl, Oh! could those worthies from the world of gods Nor every trespass shun. The feverish strife, Return to visit their degenerate sons,
Rous'd by the rare debauch, subdues, expels How would they scorn the joys of modern time, The loitering crudities that burden life; With all our art and toil improv'd to pain!
And, like a torrent full and rapid, clears
Learn temperance, friends; and hear without To learn to bear is easier than to shuo.
Ah! when ambition, meagre love of gold, Opin'd, and thus the learn'd of every school. Or sacred country calls, with mellowing wine What least of foreign principles partakes
To moisten well the thirsty suffrages;
Of Comus and his rout, wilt thou contend
With Centaurs long to hardy deeds inur’d? Such the rude mountain from his horrid sides Then learn to revel; but by slow degrees: Pours down; such waters in the sandy vale By slow degrees the liberal arts are won; For ever boil, alike of winter frosts
And Hercules grew strong. But when you smooth And summer's heat secure. The crystal stream,
The brows of care, indulge your festive vein Through rocks resounding, or for many a mile In cups by well-inform'd experience found O'er the chaf'd pebbles hurl'd, yields wholesome, The least your bane: and only with your friends. pure,
There are sweet follies; frailties to be seen Aud mellow draughts; except when winter thaws, By friends alone, and men of generous minds. And half the mountains melt into the tide.
Oh! seldom may the fated tours return Though thirst were e'er so resolute, avoid
Of drinking deep! I would not daily taste, The sordid lake, and all such drowsy floods Except when life declines, even sober cups. As fill from Lethe Belgia's slow canals;
Weak withering age no rigid law forbids, (With rest corrupt, with vegetation green;
With frugal nectar, smooth and slow with balm, Squalid with generation, and the birth
The sapless habit daily to bedew, Of little monsters ;) till the power of fire
And give the hesitating wheels of life Has from profane embraces disengag'd
Gliblier to play. But youth has better joys: The violated lymph. The virgin stream
And is it wise when youth with pleasure flows, In boiling wastes its finer soul in air.
To squander the reliefs of age and pain ! Nothing like simple element dilutes
What dextrous thousands, just within the goal
Of wild debauch, direct their nightly course! Between creation and abhorr'd decay:
It ever did; perhaps and ever will.
New worlds are still emerging from the deep;
Through various toils th’adventurous Muse has past; Prevent the lingering fates. For know, whate'er
But half the toil, and more than half, remains. Beyond its natural fervour hurries on
Rude is her theme, and hardly fit for song ;
But little practis'd in th' Aonian arts.
Yet not in vain such labours have we tried, And sows the temples with untimely snow.
If aught these lays the fickle health confirm. When life is new, the ductile fibres feel
you, ye delicate, I write; for you The heart's increasing force; and, day by day, I tame my youth to philosophic cares, The growth advances: till the larger tubes,
And grow still paler by the midnight lamp. Acquiring (from their elemental veins,
Not to debilitate with timorous rules Condens’d to solid chords) a firmer tone,
A hardy frame; nor needlessly to brave Sustain, and just sustaiu, th’impetuous blood.
Inglorious dangers, proud of mortal strength; Here stops the growth. Withi overbearing pulse Is all the lesson that in wholesome years And pressure, still the great destroy the small; Concerns the strong. His care were ill bestow'd Still with the ruins of tie small grow strong. Who would with warm effeminacy nurse Life glows mean time; amid the grinding force The thriving oak, which on the mountain's brow Of viscous fluids and elastic tubes,
Bears all the blasts that sweep the wint'ry heav'n. Its various functions vigorously are plied
Behold the labourer of the glebe, who toils By strong machinery; and in solid health
In dust, in rain, in cold and sultry skies; The man confirm'd long triumphs o'er disease. Save but the grain from mildews and the flood, But tlie full ocean ebbs: there is a point,
Nought anxious he what sickly stars ascend. By nature fix'd, whence life must downward tend. He knows no laws by Esculapius given; For still the beating tide consolidates
He studies none. Yet him nor midnight fogs The stubborn vessels, more reluctant still
Infest, nor those envenom'd shafts that fly
Robust with labour, and by custom steel'd
Serene he bears the peevish eastern blast,
And uninfected breathes the mortal south. This is the period few attain; the death
Such the reward of rude and sober life; Of nature; thus (so heav'n ordain'd it) life
Of labour such. By health the peasant's toil Destroys itself; and could these laws have chang'd, Is well repaid; if exercise were pain Nestor might now the fates of Troy relate;
Indeed, and temperance pain. By arts like these And Homer live immortal as his song. [stood Laconia nurs'd of old her hardy sons;
What does not fade? The tower that long had And Rome's unconquer'd legions urg'd their way, The crush of thunder and the warring winds, Unhurt, through every toil in every clime. Shook by the slow but sure destroyer time,
Toil, and be strong. By toil the flaccid nerves Now bangs in doubtful ruins o’er its base.
Grow firm, and gain a more compacted tone; And Ainty pyramids, and walls of brass,
The greener juices are by toil subdu’d, Descend: the Babylonian spires are sunk;
Mellow'd, and subtiliz'd; the vapid old Achaia, Rome, and Egypt moulder down.
Expell’d, and all the rancour of the blood. Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones,
Come, my companions, ye who feel the charms And tottering empires crush by their own weight. Of nature and the year; come, let us stray This huge rotundity we tread grows old;
Where chance or fancy leads our roving walk: And all those worlds that roll around the sun, Come, while the soft voluptuous breezes fan The sun himself, shall die; and ancient night The fleecy heavens, enwrap the limbs in balm, Again involve the desolate abyss:
And shed a charming languor o'er the soul. Till the great Father through the lifeless gloom Nor when bright winter sows with prickly frost Extend his arm to light another world,
The vigorous ether, in unmanly warmth And bid new planets roll by other laws.
Indulge at home; nor even when Eurus' blasts For through the regions of unbounded space, This way and that convolve the lab’ring woods. Where unconfin’d Omnipotence has room,
My liberal walks, save when the skies in rain Being, in various systems, fluctuates still
Or fogs relent, no season should confine
Or to the cloister'd gallery or arcade.
Attain'd and equal to his moderate mind; Go, climb the mountain; from th' ethereal source His life approv'd by all the wise and good, Imbibe the recent gale. The cheerful morn
Even envied by the vain) the peaceful groves Beams o'er the hills; go mount th' exulting steed. Of Epicurus, from this stormy world, Already, see, the deep-mouth'd beagles catch Receive to rest; of all ungrateful cares The tainted mazes; and, on eager sport
Absolv'd, and sacred from the selfish crowd. Intent with emulous impatience try
Happiest of men! if the same soil invites Each doubtful trace. Or, if a nobler prey
A chosen few, companions of his youth, Delight you more, go chase the desperate deer; Once fellow-rakes perhaps, now rural friends; And through its deepest solitudes awake
With whom in easy commerce to pursue The vocal forest with the jovial horn.
Nature's free charms, and vie for sylvan fame: But if the breathless chase o'er hill and dale A fair ambition ; void of strife or guile, Exceed your strength; a sport of less fatigue, Or jealousy, or pain to be outdone. Not less delightful the prolific stream
Who plans th' enchanted garden, who directs Affords. The crystal rivulet, that o'er
The visto best, and best conducts the stream; A stony channel rolls its rapid maze,
Whose groves the fastest thicken and ascend; Swarms with the silver fry. Such, through the Whom first the welcome spring salutes; who shows bounds
The earliest bloom, the sweetest proudest charms Of pastoral Stafford, runs the brawling Trent; Of Flora; who best gives Pomona's juice Such Eden, sprung from Cumbrian mountains; such To match the sprightly genius of champaign. The Esk, o'erhung with woods; and such the stream Thrice happy days! in rural business past: On whose Arcadian banks I first drew air,
Blest winter nights! when as the genial fire Liddal; till now, except in Doric lays
Cheers the wide hall, his cordial family
Or through the fairy land of tale or song
Engag'd and all that strikes humanity:
Till lost in fable, they the stealing hour Teem with the fleecy race; thy tuneful woods Of timely rest forget. Sometimes at eve For ever flourish; and thy vales look gay
His neighbours lift the latch, and bless unbid With painted meadows, and the golden grain! His festal roof; while, o'er the light repast, Oft with thy blooming sons, when life was new, And sprightly cups, they mix in social joy; Sportive and petulant, and charm'd with toys, And, through the maze of conversation, trace In thy transparent eddies have I lav'd:
Whate'er amuses or improves the mind. Oft trac'd with patient steps thy fairy banks, Sometimes at eve (for I delight to taste With the well-imitated fly to hook
The native zest and flavour of the fruit, The eager trout, and with the slender line
Where sense grows wild and takes of no manure) And yielding rod solicit to the shore
The decent, honest, cheerful husbandman The struggling panting prey; while vernal clouds Should drown his labours in my friendly bowl; And tepid gales obscur'd the ruffled pool,
And at my table find himself at home. And from the deeps call’d forth the wanton swarms. Whate'er you study, in whate'er you sweat,
Form'd on the Samian school, or those of ind, Indulge your taste. Some love the manly foils; There are who think these pastimes scarce humane. The tennis some; and some the graceful dance. Yet in my mind (and not relentless I)
Others more hardy, range the purple heath, His life is pure that wears no fouler stains.
Or naked stubble; where from field to field But if through genuine tenderness of heart, The sounding coveys urge their labouring flight; Or secret want of relish for the game,
Eager amid the rising cloud to pour You shun the glories of the chase, nor care
The gun's unerring thunder: and there are To haunt the peopled stream; the garden yields Whom still the meed of the green archer charms. A soft amusement, an humane delight.
He chooses best, whose labour entertains To raise th' insipid nature of the ground;
His vaçant fancy most: the toil you hate Or tame its savage genius to the grace
Fatigues you soon, and scarce improves your limbs. Of careless sweet rusticity, that seems
As beauty still has blemish; and the mind The amiable result of happy chance,
The most accomplish'd its imperfect side; Is to create; and gives a godlike joy,
Few bodies are there of that happy mould Which every year improves. Nor thou disdain
But some one part is weaker than the rest :
The legs, perhaps, or arms refuse their load,
Acquire a vigour and springy activity