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For who's he, that's not ravish'd with delight
To have old Rome presented to his sight,
Yet nothing worthy unless ye herewith find
The fruits of skill, and bettering of your mind.
Rum mihi et Silentium.
And, as thy birth, so, hadst thy being free,
Thy solitary Academe should be
Some shady grove upon the Thames' fair side;
Such as we may near princely Richmond see,
There shouldst thou sit at long-desired rest,
And think thyself above a monarch blest.
There might'st thou sing thy sweet Creator's praise, And turn at quiet o'er some holy book,
Or tune the accent of thy harmless lays
Or, wouldst thou music to delight thine ear,
Thou shalt a thousand wing'd musicians hear,
The thrush a tenor; off a little space,
Some mateless dove doth murmur out the base.
Nor princes' richest arras may compare
With some small spot where Nature's skill i» shown,
Perfuming sweetly all the neighbour air,
While thousand colours in a night are blown: Here's a light crimson, there a deeper one,
A maiden's blush, here purples, there a white,
Then all commingled for our more delight.
Withal, as in some rare limn'd book, we find
The camomile, we should be patient still,
The woodbine, that we should our friendship hold,
Our hope the savory in the bitterest cold.
Yet, love the city, as the kindly nurse
Of all good arts, and fair civility; Where, though with good be intermixt the worse,
That most disturb our sweet tranquillity,
Content thyself, till thine ability
The Author's Conclusion.
As then the sky was calm and fair,
The winds did cease, and clouds were fled,
New risen from her rosy bed:
Both mead and mountain with her flowers,
About the fields and leavy bowers.
* "Flora, sometime a famous harlot in Rome, and after "goddess of flowers."
The woods and waters left their sound,
No tenderest twig was seen to move; The beast lay couched on the ground,
The winged people perch'd above; Save Philomel, who did renew.
Her wonted plaints unto the Morn, That seem'd indeed her state to rue
By shedding tears upon the thorn.
When I, as other, taking rest
Was show'd, methought, a goodly plain, With all the store of Nature bjest,
And situate within the main; With rocks about environ'd quite,
But inward round in rows there stood, As well for profit as delight,
The trees of orchard and the wood.
The builder acorn, long ago
To Dodonsean Jove adjoin'd; And there the lofty pine did grow,
That winged flies before the wind; Leucothoe, that wounded bleeds,
Nor wanting was, nor that same tree * That bears the stain in fruit and seeds
Of Thisbe's woful tragedy.
* * • * *
* " The mulberry."
Th' unblasted bay, to conquests due,
Tbe Persian peach, and fruitful quince, And there the forward almond grew,
With cherries, * known no long time siuce; The winter-warden, orchard's pride,
The philibert, * that loves the vale, And red queen-apple, so envied
Of schoolboys passing by the pale.
Within there was a circlet round,
That rais'd itself, of softest grass;
Or emerald greener ever was.
(Not Paphos' queen so fair a wight,)
To see a purer red and white.
In robe of,woven silver fine,
*" Erasmus—afHr m eth cherries to have been known to th«e "parts of Europe little above two or three hundred years, "being first brought from Cerasuntis, a city of Pontus, "whence they have their name."
* " The filbert, so named of Philibert, a king of France, "who caused by ait sundry kinds to be brought forth."