The English Parnassus, or, A helpe to English poesie containing a collection of all rhyming monosyllables, the choicest epithets, and phrases : with some general forms upon all occasions, subjects, and theams, alphabeticaly digested : together with a short institution to English poesie, by way of a preface / by Joshua Poole.

Sweet smelling.

Zephyrus breaths not with a sweetergale, Through groves of Sycamore. A breath compos'd of odours. Sweet as Panchaian fumes, As the sweet sweat of tosesin a Still, Or that which from chas'd Musk cats pores doth tril. As th' Almighty balm, of th' early east. Like the Sabaean airs, which as they fly, Perfume with sweets the morning Majesty. Like to the Phenix nest, when she her wain Of age repairs, and sows her self again▪ Or when that balmy load she doth transfer Her cradle, and her parents sepulcher, To Heliopolis, Apollo's Town, And on his flamy Altar layes it down. A place that breath'd perfumes, Her words embalmed in so sweet a breath, That made them triumph both on time and death. Whose fragrant sweets. Since the Cameleon knew And tasted of, he to this humour grew, Left other elements held this so rare, That since he never feeds on ought but air. Oh how the flowers prest with their treading on them, Strove to cast up their heads to look upon them, And jealously the buds that so had seen them Sent out their sweetest smells to come between them, As fearing the perfume lodg'd in their powers, If known, would make men quite neglect the flowers, The nard breaths never so, nor so the rose, when the namour'd spring by kissing blows Soft blushes on her cheeks, nor th' early east Vying with Paradise ••'th Phenix nest As it, the nard expires. Perfuming Phenix like his funerall fi••es. The winds of Paradise send such a gale, More pretious breath than which moves The whispering leaves in the Panchaian groves.

Arabian wind, whose breathing gently blows ••••le to th' violet, blushes to the rose, ••••ever yield an odour rich as this, ••hen the Phenix from the flowry east ••••s the sweet treasure of her perfum'd nest, ••••et as the proudest treasures of the east. ••••et as the Indian Cane. As flaming gums, ••••agrant as the morning rose, ••••t as Panchaian gums or Frankincense, ••myrrhe, nor Cassia, nor the choice perfumes ••untouch'd nard, or Aromatick fumes •• hot Arabia doth enrich the air 〈◊〉〈◊〉 more delicious sweetnesse, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ever smelt the breath of morinng flowers, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sweetned with the dew of twilight showers. •• pounded amber, or the flowring thyme •• purple violets in their proudest prime ••welling clusters from the cypresse tree. ••sweet &c. As drops of balm. ••••st of odours, spice and gums. ••••fumes, that all th' Arabian gums excells, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 spices that do build the Phenix pyre, ••••en she renews her youth in funerall fires, Whose sweetnesse doth as far exceed ••bian sents, as they the fowlest weeds, ••••et as the Altars smoke, or as the new ••••lded bud swell'd by the early dew. Whose native smell •• Indian odours doth excell, ••ll the pleasures were distill'd, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 every flower in every field. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all that Hybla's hives do yield, ••••re into one broad mazer fill'd, ••••ereto added all the gums, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 spice that from Panchaia comes, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 odours that Hydaspes lends, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Phenix proves before she ends, •• all the air that flora drew, •• spirit that Zephyrus ever blew, ••ere put therein, and all the dew, ••••t ever rosy morning knew, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all diffus'd could not compare,

With &c. As gums distill'd from weeping trees, Whose spicie smoke, Perfumes the neighbour air, till it doth choke The greedy sense, sweet as the drops of balm, As when soft west winds struck the garden rose, A showr of sweeter air salutes the nose, When with a sparing kisse and gentle power, He unlocks the virgin bosome of the flower. Whose odour fills the ambient air, Like spice of smokes rais'd from sweet gums With aromatick powders fraught, By merchants from Sabea▪ brought, That yield A savour like unto the field, When the bedabbled Morn Washeth the ears of corn, Fetch all the spices that Arabia yields, Distill the choicest flowers of the fields, And when in one their best perfections meet, Bring them to this, that so they may seem sweet.