They unconcern'd, from their safe distant seat,
Behold the rods and sceptres of the great;
The quarrels of the mighty without fear,

And the descent of foreign troops, they hear;
Nor can ev'n Rome their steady course misguide,
With all the lustre of her perishing pride.
Them never yet did strife or avarice draw
Into the noisy markets of the law,

The camps of gowned war; nor do they live
By rules or forms, that many madmen give.
Duty for Nature's bounty they repay,
And her sole laws religiously obey.

[main,

Some with bold labour plough the faithless Some rougher storms in prince's courts sustain: Some swell up their slight sails with popular fame Charm'd with the foolish whistlings of a name: Some their vain wealth to earth again commit: With endless cares some brooding o'er it sit : Country and friends are by some wretches sold, To lie on Tyrian beds, and drink in gold; No price too high for profit can be shown; Not brother's blood, nor hazards of their own: Around the world in search of it they roam, It makes ev'n their antipodes their home; Meanwhile, the prudent husbandman is found, In mutual duties striving with his ground, And half the year he care of that does take, That half the year grateful returns does make. Each fertile month does some new gifts present, And with new work his industry content.

This the young lamb, that the soft fleece, doth

yield;

This loads with hay, and that with corn, the field:
All sorts of fruit crown the rich autumn's pride:
And on a swelling hill's warm stony side,
The powerful princely purple of the vine,
Twice dy'd with the redoubled Sun, does shine.
In th' evening to a fair ensuing day,

With joy he sees his flocks and kids to play:
And loaded kine about his cottage stand,

Inviting with known sound the milker's hand;
And when from wholesome labour he doth come,
With wishes to be there, and wish'd-for home,
He meets at door the softest human blisses,
His chaste wife's welcome, and dear children's
kisses.

When any rural holidays invite

His genius forth to innocent delight,
On earth's fair bed, beneath some sacred shade,
Amidst his equal friends carelessly laid,
He sings thee, Bacchus, patron of the vine;
The beechen bowl foams with a flood of wine,
Not to the loss of reason, or of strength:

To active games and manly sport, at length,
Their mirth ascends, and with fill'd veins they see
Who can the best at better trials be.

From such the old Hetrurian virtue rose;
Such was the life the prudent Sabins chose:
Such, Remus, and the god his brother, led;
From such firm-footing Rome grew the world's
head.

Such was the life that, ev'n till now, does raise
The honour of poor Saturn's golden days:
Before men, born of earth, and buried there,
Let-in the sea their mortal fate to share:
Before new ways of perishing were sought;
Before unskilful death on anvils wrought;
Before those beasts, which human life sustain,
By men, unless to the gods use, were slain.

HOR. EPOD. ODE II.

HAPPY the man, whom bounteous gods allow
With his own hands paternal grounds to plough
Like the first golden mortals happy, be,
From business and the cares of money free!
No human storms break off at land his sleep;
No loud alarms of nature, on the deep:
From all the cheats of law he lives secure,
Nor does th' affronts of palaces endure.
Sometimes, the beauteous, marriageable vine
He to the lusty bridegroom elm does join :
Sometimes he lops the barren trees around,
And grafts new life into the fruitful wound;
Sometimes he shears his flock, and sometimes he
Stores up the golden treasures of the bee.
He sees his lowing herds walk o'er the plain,
Whilst neighbouring hills lowe back to them
again;

And, when the season, rich as well as gay,
All her autumnal bounty does display,
How is he pleas'd th' increasing use to see
Of his well-trusted labours bend the tree!
Of which large shares, on the glad sacred days,
He gives to friends, and to the gods repays.
With how much joy does he, beneath some shade
By aged trees' reverend embraces made,
His careless head on the fresh green recline,
His head uncharg'd with fear or with design.
By him a river constantly complains,
The birds above rejoice with various strains,
And in the solemn scene their orgies keep,
Like dreams, mix'd with the gravity of sleep!
Sleep, which does always there for entrance wait,
And nought within against it shuts the gate.

Nor does the roughest season of the sky,

Or sullen Jove, all sports to him deny.
He runs the mazes of the nimble hare,

His well-mouth'd dogs' glad concert rends the
Or with game bolder, and rewarded more, [air;
He drives into a toil the foaming boar;
Here flies the hawk t' assault, and there the net
To intercept, the travailing fowl, is set;
And all his malice, all his craft, is shown
In innocent wars on beasts and birds alone.
This is the life from all misfortunes free,

From thee, the great one, tyrant Love, from

thee;

And, if a chaste and clean, though homely wife
Be added to the blessings of this life,-
Such as the ancient Sun-burnt Sabins were,
Such as Apulia, frugal still, does bear,-
Who makes her children and the house her care,
And joyfully the work of life does share,
Nor thinks herself too noble or too fine

To pin the sheepfold or to milch the kine;
Who waits at door against her husband come
From rural duties, late and wearied, home,
Where she receives him with a kind embrace,
A cheerful fire, and a more cheerful face;
And fills the bowl up to her homely lord,
And with domestic plenty loads the board;
Not all the lustful shell-fish of the sea,
Dress'd by the wanton hand of Luxury,
Not ortolans, nor godwits, nor the rest
Of costly names that glorify a feast,
Are at the princely tables better cheer,
Than lamb and kid, lettuce and olives, here.

THE COUNTRY MOUSE.

[eat.

Ar the largest foot of a fair hollow tree,
Close to plough'd ground, seated commodiously,
His ancient and hereditary house,
There dwelt a good substantial country mouse;
Frugal, and grave, and careful of the main,
Yet one who once did nobly entertain
A city mouse, well-coated, sleek, and gay,
A mouse of high degree which lost his way,
Wantonly walking forth to take the air,
And arriv'd early, and belighted, there,
For a day's lodging: the good hearty host
(The ancient plenty of his hall to boast)
Did all the stores produce, that might excite,
With various tastes, the courtier's appetite.
Fitches and beans, peason and oats, and wheat,
And a large chesnut, the delicious meat
Which Jove himself, were he a mouse, would
And, for a haut goust, there was mixt with these
The swerd of bacon, and the coat of cheese :
The precious reliques which, at harvest, he
Had gather'd from the reaper's luxury.
"Freely" (said he) " fall on, and never spare,
The bounteous gods will for to morrow care."
And thus at ease, on beds of straw, they lay,
And to their genius sacrific'd the day:
Yet the nice guest's Epicurean mind,
(Though breeding made him civil seem and kind)
Despis'd this country feast; and still his thought
Upon the cakes and pies of London wrought.
"Your bounty and civility" (said he),
"Which I'm surpris'd in these rude parts to see,
Shows that the gods have given you a mind
Too noble for the fate which here you find.
Why should a soul, so virtuous and so great,
Lose itself thus in an obscure retreat?
Let savage beasts lodge in a country den;

Till silence should invite them to their feast.
"About the hour that Cynthia's silver light
Had touch'd the pale meridies of the night;"
At last, the various supper being done,
It happen'd that the company was gone
Into a room remote, servants and all,
To please their noble fancies with a ball.
Our host leads forth his stranger, and does find
All fitted to the bounties of his mind.
Still on the table half-fill'd dishes stood,
And with delicious bits the floor was strew'd.
The courteous mouse presents him with the best,
And both with fat varieties are blest.

Th' industrious peasant every where does range,
And thanks the Gods for his life's happy change.
Lo! in the midst of a well-freighted pye,
They both at last glutted and wanton lie;
When, see the sad reverse of prosperous fate,
And what fierce storms on mortal glories wait!
With hideous noise down the rude servants come,
Six dogs before run barking into th' room;
The wretched gluttons fly with wild affright,
And hate the fullness, which retards their flight.
Our trembling peasant wishes now, in vain,
That rocks and mountains cover'd him again;
Oh, how the change of his poor life he curst!
"This, of all lives" (said he) " is sure the worst :
Give me again, ye gods, my cave and wood!
With peace, let tares and acorns be my food!"

A PARAPHRASE UPON THE 10th EPISTLE OF TUB FIRST BOOK OF HORACE.

HORACE TO FUSCUS ARISTIUS.

men;

And taste the generous luxury of the court,
Where all the mice of quality resort;
Where thousand beauteous shes about you move,
And, by high fare, are pliant made to love.
We all, ere long, must render up our breath;
No cave or hole can shelter us from death.
Since life is so uncertain, and so short,
Let 's spend it all in feasting and in sport.
Come, worthy sir, come with me and partake
All the great things that mortals happy make.”
Alas! what virtue hath sufficient arms
T' oppose bright honour, and soft pleasure's

charms:

What wisdom can their magic force repel? It draws this reverend hermit from his cell. It was the time, when witty poets tell, "That Phœbus into Thetis' bosom fell: She blush'd at first, and then put out the light, And drew the modest curtains of the night." Plainly the truth to tell, the Sun was set, When to the town our wearied travellers get: To a lord's house, as lordly as can be, Made for the use of pride and luxury, They come; the gentle courtier at the door Stops, and will hardly enter in before: "But 'tis, sir, your command, and being so, I'm sworn t' obedience; aud so in they go."

6

Health, to the lover of the city, thee;
A difference in our souls, this only proves;
In all things else, we agree like married doves.
But the warm nest and crowded dove house thou
Dost like; I loosely fly from bough to bough,
And rivers drink, and all the shining day
Upon fair trees or mossy rocks I play;
In fine, I live and reign, when I retire
From all that you equal with Heaven admire;
Like one at last from the priest's service filed,
Loathing the honied cakes, I long for bread.
Would I a house for happiness erect,
Nature alone should be the architect,
She'd build it more convenient than great,
And doubtless in the country choose her seat;
Is there a place doth better helps supply
Against the wounds of Winter's cruelty ?
Is there an air, that gentlier does assuage
The mad celestial Dog's, or Lion's, rage ?
Is it not there that sleep (and only there)
Nor noise without, nor cares within, does fear?
Does art through pipes a purer water bring,
Than that, which Nature strains into a spring?
Can all your tap'stries, or your pictures show
More beauties, than in herbs and flowers do

grow?

Fountains and trees our wearied pride do please, Ev'n in the midst of gilded palaces,

And in your towns, that prospect gives delight,
Which opens round the country to our sight.
Men to the good, from which they rashly fly,
Return at last; and their wild luxury
Does but in vain with those true joys contend,
Which Nature did to mankind recommend.
The man who changes gold for burnish'd brass,
Or small right gems for larger ones of glass,
Is not, at length, more certain to be made
Ridiculous, and wretched by the trade,
Than he, who sells a solid good, to buy
The painted goods of pride and vanity.
If thou be wise, no glorious fortune choose,
Which 'tis but pain to keep, yet grief to lose!
For, when we place ev'n trifles in the heart,
With trifles too, unwillingly we part.
An humble roof, plain bed, and homely board,
More clear, untainted pleasures do afford,
Than all the tumult of vain greatness brings
To kings, or to the favourites of kings.
The horned deer, by nature arm'd so well,
Did with the horse in common pasture dwell,
And, when they fought, the field it always wan,
Till the ambitious horse begg'd help of man,
And took the bridle, and thenceforth did reign
Bravely alone, as lord of all the plain;
But never after could the rider get

From off his back, or from his mouth the bit.
So they, who poverty too much do fear,

T' avoid that weight, a greater burthen bear;
That they might power above their equals have,
To cruel masters they themselves enslave.
For gold, their liberty exchang'd we see,
That fairest flower which crowns humanity 3.
And all this mischief does upon them light,
Only, because they know not how, aright,
That great, but secret, happiness to prize,
That 's laid up in a little, for the wise :
That is the best and easiest estate,
Which to a man sits close, but not too strait;
'Tis like a shoe; it pinches and it burns,
Too narrow; and too large, it overturns.
My dearest friend! stop thy desires at last,
And chearfully enjoy the wealth thou hast:
And, if me still seeking for more you see,
Chide and reproach, despise and laugh at me.
Money was made, not to command our will,
But all our lawful pleasures to fulfil:
Shame and woe to us, if we our wealth obey;
The horse doth with the horseman run away.

The specious inconveniences, that wait
Upon a life of business, and of state,
He sees (nor does the sight disturb his rest
By fools desir'd, by wicked men possest.
Thus, this (and this deserv'd great Virgil's

praise)

The old Corycian yeoman pass'd his days;
Thus his wise life Abdolonymus spent :
Th' ambassadors, which the great emperor sent
To offer him a crown, with wonder found
The reverend gardener hoeing of his ground;
Unwillingly, and slow, and discontent,
From his lov'd cottage to a throne he went;
And oft he stopt, in his triumphant way:
And oft look'd back, and oft was heard to say,
Not without sighs, Alas! 1 there forsake
A happier kingdom than I go to take !
Thus Aglaüs (a man unknown to men,
But the gods knew, and therefore lov'd him then)
Thus liv'd obscurely then without a name,
Aglaüs, now consign'd t' eternal fame.
For Gyges, the rich king, wicked and great,
Presum'd, at wise Apollo's Delphic seat
[eye,
Presum'd, to ask, "Oh thou, the whole world's
See'st thou a man that happier is than I?"
The god, who scorn'd to flatter man, reply'd,
"Aglaüs happier is." But Gyges cry'd,
In a proud rage, "Who can that Aglaüs be!
We have heard, as yet, of no such king as he."
And true it was, through the whole Earth around
No king of such a name was to be found.
"Is some old hero of that name alive,

Who his high race does from the gods derive?
Is it some mighty general, that has done
Wonders in fight, and god-like honours won?
Is it some man of endless wealth?" said he.

None, none of these." "Who can this Aglaüs After long search, and vain inquiries past, [be? In an obscure Arcadian vale at last

(Th' Arcadian life has always shady been)
Near Sopho's town (which he but once had seen)
This Aglaüs, who monarch's envy drew,
Whose happiness the gods stood witness to,
This mighty Aglaüs, was labouring found,
With his own hands, in his own little ground.

So, gracious God! (if it may lawful be,
Among those foolish gods to mention thee)
So let me act, on such a private stage,
The last dull scenes of my declining age;
After long toils and voyages in vain,
This quiet port let my tost vessel gain;
Of heavenly rest, this earnest to me lend,
Let my life sleep, and learn to love her end.

THE COUNTRY LIFE.

Lib. IV. Plantarum.

BLEST be the man (and blest he is) whom e'er
(Plac'd far out of the roads of hope or fear)
A little field, and little garden, feeds :
The field gives all that frugal Nature needs;
The wealthy garden liberally bestows
All she can ask, when she luxurious grows.

The poet, as usual, expresses his own feeling : but he does more, he expresses it very classically. The allusion is to the ancient custom of wearing wreaths or garlands of flowers, on any occasion of joy and festivity. HURD.

V.

THE GARDEN.

TO J. EVELYN, Esquire.

I NEVER had any other desire so strong and so like to covetousness, as that one which I have had always, that I might be master at last of a small house and large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life only to the culture of them, and study of nature;

pains:

'Tis well if they become not prey: The whistling winds add their less artful strains And a grave bass the murmuring fountains play; Nature does all this harmony bestow,

But to our plants, art's music too,
The pipe, theorbo, and guittar, we owe;
The lute itself, which once was green and mute,
When Orpheus strook th' inspired lute,
The trees danc'd round, and understood
By sympathy the voice of wood.

These are the spells, that to kind sleep invite,
And nothing does within resistance make,
Which yet we moderately take;
Who would not choose to be awake,

When the great Hebrew king did almost strain The wondrous treasures of his wealth and brain, His royal southern guest to entertain;

Though she on silver floors did tread, With bright Assyrian carpets on them spread, To hide the metal's poverty; Though she look'd up to roofs of gold, And nought around her could behold But silk and rich embroidery, And Babylonish tapestry,

And wealthy Hiram's princely dye;

Though Ophir's starry stones met every where

her eye;

Though she herself and her gay host were drest
With all the shining glories of the East;
When lavish Art her costly work had done,

The honour and the prize of bravery
Was by the garden from the palace won;
And every rose and lily there did stand
Better attir'd by Nature's hand 7.
The case thus judg'd against the king we see,
By one, that would not be so rich, though wiser

far than he.

sight!

When Venus would her dear Ascanius keep 6
A prisoner in the downy bands of sleep,
She odorous herbs and flowers beneath him

spread,

As the most soft and sweetest bed; [head. Not her own lap would more have charm'd his Who, that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmine dwell,

Rather than all his spirits choak With exhalations of dirt and smoke,

And all th' uncleanness which does drown, In pestilential clouds, a populous town? The earth itself breathes better perfumes here, Than all the female men, or women, there, Not without cause, about them bear.

When Epicurus to the world had taught, That pleasure was the chiefest good, (And was, perhaps, i' th' right, if rightly under

His life he to his doctrine brought, [stood) And in a garden 's shade that sovereign pleasure sought:

Whoever a true epicure would be,
May there find cheap and virtuous luxury.
Vitellius's table, which did hold
As many creatures as the ark of old;
That fiscal table, to which every day
All countries did a constant tribute pay,
Could nothing more delicious afford
Than Nature's liberality,
Help'd with a little art and industry,
Allows the meanest gardener's board.
The wanton taste no fish or fowl can choose,
For which the grape or melon she would lose;
Though all th' inhabitants of sea and air
Be listed in the glutton's bill of fare,

Yet still the fruits of earth we see
Plac'd the third story high in all her luxury.

But with no sense the garden does comply,
None courts, or flatters, as it does, the eye.

Virg. Æn. i. 695.

Such various pleasures to the sense;
Here health itself does live,

That salt of life, which does to all a relish give,
Its standing pleasure, and intrinsic wealth,
The body's virtue, and the soul's good-fortune,
health.

The tree of life, when it in Eden stood,
Did its immortal head to Heaven rear;
It lasted a tall cedar, till the flood;

Now a small thorny shrub it does appear;
Nor will it thrive too every where:
It always here is freshest seen;
'Tis only here an ever-green.

If, through the strong and beauteous fence
Of temperance and innocence,

And wholesome labours, and a quiet mind,
Any diseases passage find,

They must not think here to assail

A land unarmed or without a guard;
They must fight for it, and dispute it hard,
Before they can prevail:

Scarce any plant is growing here,

Which against death some weapon does not bear.

Let cities boast, that they provide
For life the oruaments of pride;
But 'tis the country and the field,
That furnish it with staff and shield.

Where does the wisdom and the power divine
In a more bright and sweet reflection shine?
Where do we finer strokes and colours see
Of the Creator's real poetry,

Than when we with attention look
Upon the third day's voluine of the book?
If we could open and intend our eye,
We all, like Moses, should espy
Ev'n in a bush the radiant Deity.
But we despise these his inferior ways
(Though no less full of miracle and praise):
Upon the flowers of Heaven we gaze;
The stars of Earth no wonder in us raise,

7 Matth. vi. 29.