The art of preserving health: a poem.

About this Item

Title
The art of preserving health: a poem.
Author
Armstrong, John, 1709-1779.
Publication
[Philadelphia] :: London, printed: Philadelphia, re-printed, and sold by B. Franklin.,
M.DCC.XLV. [1745]
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Subject terms
Health -- Poetry.
Poems -- 1745.
Cite this Item
"The art of preserving health: a poem." In the digital collection Evans Early American Imprint Collection. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/N04464.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 22, 2024.

Pages

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THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH.

BOOK I. AIR.

DAUGHTER of Paeon, queen of every joy, HYGEIA whose indulgent smile sustains The various race luxuriant nature pours, And on th' immortal essences bestows Immortal Youth; auspicious, O descend!Line 5 Thou, chearful guardian of the rolling year, Whether thou wanton'st on the western gale, Or shak'st the rigid pinions of the north, Diffusest life and vigour thro' the tracts, Of air, thro' earth, and ocean's deep domain.Line 10

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When thro' the blue serenity of heav'n Thy power approaches, all the wasteful host Of pain and sickness, squalid and deform'd, Confounded sink into the loathsom gloom, Where in deep Erebus involv'd the fiendsLine 15 Grow more profane. Whatever shapes of death Shook from the hideous chambers of the globe, Swarm thro' the shuddering air: whatever plagues Or meagre famine breeds, or with slow wings Rise from the putrid wat'ry element,Line 20 The damp waste forest, motionless and rank, That smothers earth, and all the breathless winds, Or the vi•••• carnage of th' inhuman field; Whatever baneful breathes the rotten south; Whatever ills th' extremes or sudden changeLine 25 Of cold and hot, or moist and dry produce; They fly thy pure effulgence: they, and all The secret poisons of avenging heaven, And all the pale tribes halting in the train Of vice and heedless pleasure: or if aughtLine 30 The comet's glare amid the burning sky, Mournful eclipse, or planets ill combin'd, Portend disastrous to the vital world; Thy salutary power averts their rage, Averts the general bane: and but for theeLine 35 Nature would sicken, nature soon would die.

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WITHOUT thy chearful, active energy, No rapture swells the breast, no poet sings, No more the maids of Helicon delight. Come then with me, O Goddess heavenly gay!Line 40 Begin the song; and let it sweetly flow, And let it wisely teach thy wholesom laws: " How best the fickle fabric to support " Of mortal man; in healthful body how " A healthful mind the longest to maintain."Line 45 'Tis hard, in such a strife of rules, to chuse The best, and those of most extensive use; Harder in clear and animated song, Dry philosophic precepts to convey. Yet with thy aid the secret wilds I traceLine 50 Of nature, and with daring steps proceed Thro' paths the muses never trod before.
NOR should I wander doubtful of my way, Had I the lights of that sagacious mind Which taught to check the pestilential fire,Line 55 And quell the dreaded Python of the Nile. O Thou belov'd by all the graceful arts, Thou long the fav'rite of the healing powers, Indulge, O MEAD! a well-design'd essay, Howe'er imperfect, and permit that ILine 60 My little knowledge with my country share, Till you the rich Aslepian stores unlock, And with new graces dignify the theme.

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YE who amid this feverish world would wear A body free of pain, of cares a mind;Line 65 Fly the rank city, shun its turbid air; Breathe not the chaos of eternal smoke And volatile corruption, from the dead, The dying, sick'ning, and the living world Exhal'd, to sully heaven's transparent domeLine 70 With dim mortality. It is not air That from a thousand lungs reeks back to thine, Sated with exhalations rank and fll, The spoil of dunghills, and the putrid thaw Of nature; when from shape and texture sheLine 75 Relapses into fighting elements: It is not air, but floats a nauseous mass Of all obscene, corrupt, offensive things. Much moisture hurts; but here a sordid bath With oily rancour fraught, relaxes moreLine 80 The solid frame than simple moisture can. Besides, immur'd in many a sullen bay That never felt the freshness of the breeze, This slumbring deep remains, and ranker grows With sickly rest: and (tho' the lungs abhorLine 85 To drink the dun fuliginous abyss) Did not the acid vigour of the mine, Roll'd from so many thundring chimneys, tame The putrid salts that overswarm the sky; This caustick venom would perhaps corrodeLine 90 Those tender cells that draw the vital air,

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In vain with all their unctuous rills bedew'd; Or by the drunken, venous tubes, that yawn In countless pores o'er all the pervious skin, Imbib'd, would poison the balsamic blood,Line 95 And rouse the heart to every fever's rage. While yet you breathe, away! the rural wilds Invite; the mountains call you, and the vales, The woods, the streams, and each ambrosial breeze That fans the ever undulating sky;Line 100 A kindly sky! whose fost'ring power regales Man, beast, and all the vegetable reign. Find then some woodland scene, where nature smiles Benign, where all her honest children thrive. To us there wants not many a happy seat;Line 105 Look round the smiling land, such numbers rise We hardly fix, bewilder'd in our choice. See where enthron'd in adamantine state, Proud of her bards, imperial Windsor sits; There chuse thy seat, in some aspiring grove,Line 110 Fast by the slowly winding Thames; or where Broader she laves fair Richmond's green retreats, (Richmond that sees an hundred villas rise, Rural or gay) O! from the summer's rage, O! wrap me in the friendly gloom that hidesLine 115 Umbrageous Ham! But if the busy town Attract thee still to toil for power or gold, Sweetly thou may'st thy vacant hours possess In Hampstead, courted by the western wind; Line 120

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Or Greenwich, waving o'er the winding flood;Line 120 O lose the world amid the sylvan wilds Of Dulwich, yet by barbarous arts unspoil'd. Green rise the Kentish Hills in chearful air▪ But on the marshy plains that Essex spreads Build not, nor rest too long thy wandering feet.Line 125 For on a rustic throne of dewy turf, With baneful fogs her aching temples bound, Quartana there presides; a meagre fiend, Begot by Eurus, when his brutal force Compress'd the slothful Naiad of the fens.Line 130 From such a mixture sprung this fitful pest, With feverish blasts subdues the sick'ning land: Cold Tremors come, and mighty love of rest, Convulsive yawnings, lassitude, and pains, That sting the burden'd brows, fatigue the loins,Line 135 And rack the joints, and every torpid limb; Then parching heat succeeds, till copious sweats O'erflow; a short relief from former ills. Beneath repeated shocks the wretches pine; The vigour sinks, the habit melts away;Line 140 The chearful, pure and animated bloom, Dies from the face, with squalid atrophy Devour'd, in sallow melancholy clad. And oft the sorceress, in her sated wrath, Resigns them to the furies of her train;Line 145 The bloated Hydrops, and the yellow fiend Ting'd with her own accumulated gall.

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IN quest of sites, avoid the mournful plain Where osiers thrive, and trees that love the lake▪ Where many lazy muddy rivers flow:Line 150 Nor for the wealth that all the Indies roll, Fix near the marshy margin of the main. For from the humid soil, and wat'ry reign, Eternal vapours rise; the spungy air For ever weeps; or, turgid with the weightLine 155 Of waters, pours a sounding deluge down. Skies such as these let every mortal shun Who dreads the dropsy, palsy, or the gout, Tertian, corrosive scurvy, or most catarrh▪ Or any other injury that growsLine 160 From raw-spun fibres, idle and unstrung. Skin ill perspiring, and the purple flood In languid eddies loitering into phlegm.
YET not alone from humid skies we pine; For air may be too dry. The subtle heavenLine 165 That winnows into dust the blasted downs, Bare, and extended wide, without a stream, Too fast imbibes th' attenuated lymph, Which, by the surface, from the blood exhales. The lungs grow rigid, and with toil essayLine 170 Their flexible vibrations; or inflam'd, Their tender ever-moving structure thaws. Spoil'd of its limpid vehicle, the blood A mass of lees remains, a drossy tide Line 175

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That slow as Lethe wanders thro' the veins,Line 175 Unactive in the services of life, Unfit to lead its pitchy current thro' The secret mazy channels of the brain. The melancholic fiend (that worst despair Of physic) hence the rust-complexion'd manLine 180 Pursues, whose blood is dry, whose fibres gain Too stretch'd a tone: and hence in climes adust So sudden tumults seize the trembling nerves, And burning fevers glow with double rage.
FLY, if you can, these violent extremesLine 185 Of air; the wholesome is nor moist nor dry. But as the power of chusing is deny'd To half mankind, a further task ensues; How best to mitigate these fell extreams, How breathe unhurt the withering element,Line 190 Or hazy atmosphere: tho' custom moulds To every clime the soft Promethean clay; And he who first the fogs of Essex breath'd (So kind is native air) may in the fens Of Essex from inveterate ills reviveLine 195 At pure Montpelier or Bermuda caught: But if the raw and oozy heaven offend, Correct the soil, and dry the sources up Of wat'ry exhalation; wide and deep Conduct your Trenches thro' the spouting Bog;Line 200 Solicitous, with all your winding arts,

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Betray th' unwilling lake into the stream; And weed the forest, and invoke the winds To break the toils where strangled vapours lie; Or thro' the thickets send the crackling flames.Line 205 Mean time, at home with chearful fires dispel The humid air: and let your table smoke With solid roast or bak'd; or what the herds Of tamer breed supply; or what the wilds Yield to the toilsome pleasures of the chace.Line 210 Generous your wine, the boast of rip'ning years, But frugal be your cups; the languid frame, Vapid and sunk from yesterday's debauch, Shrinks from the cold embrace of wat'ry heavens. But neither these, nor all Apollo's arts,Line 215 Disarm the dangers of the dropping sky, Unless with exercise and manly toil You brace your nerves, and spur the lagging blood. The fat'ning clime let all the sons of ease Avoid; if indolence would wish to live.Line 220 Go, yawn and loiter out the long slow year In fairer skies. If droughty regions parch The skin and lungs, and bake the thick'ning blood; Deep in the waving forest chuse your seat, Where fuming trees refresh the thirsty air;Line 225 And wake the fountains from their secret beds, And into lakes dilate the running stream. Here spread your gardens wide; and let the cool, The moist relaxing vegetable store Line 230

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Prevail in each repast: your food suppliedLine 230 By bleeding life, be gently wasted down, By soft decoction, and a mellowing heat, To liquid balm, or, if the solid mass You chuse, tormented in the boiling wave; That thro' the thirsty channels of the bloodLine 235 A smooth diluted chyle may ever flow. The fragrant dairy from its cool recess Its nectar acid or benign will pour To drown your thirst: or let the mantling bowl Of keen sherbet the sickle taste relieve.Line 240 For with the viscous blood the simple stream Will hardly mingle, and fermented cups Oft dissipate more moisture than they give. Yet when pale seasons rise, or winter rolls His horrors o'er the world, thou mayst indulgeLine 245 In feasts more genial, and impatient broach The mellow cask. Then too the scourging air Provokes to keener toils than sultry droughts Allow. But rarely we such skies blaspheme. Steep'd in continual rains, or with raw fogsLine 250 Bedew'd, our seasons droop; incumbent still A ponderous heaven o'erwhelms the sinking soul. Lab'ring with storms in heapy mountains rise Th' imbattled clouds, as if the Stygian shades Had left the dungeon of eternal night,Line 255 Till black with thunder all the south descends. Scarce in a showerless day the heavens indulge

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Our melting clime, except the baleful east Withers the tender spring, and sourly checks The fancy of the year. Our fathers talkLine 260 Of summers, balmy airs, and skies serene. Good heaven! for what unexpiated crimes This dismal change! The brooding elements Do they, your powerful ministers of wrath, Prepare some fierce exterminating plague?Line 265 Or is it fix'd in the decrees above That lofty Albion melt into the main? Indulgent nature! O dissolve this gloom! Bind in eternal adamant the winds That drown or wither: give the genial westLine 270 To breathe, and in its turn the sprightly north And may once more the circling seasons rule The year; not mix in every monstrous day.
MEAN time, the moist malignity to shun Of burthen'd skies; mark where the dry champainLine 275 Swells into chearful hills; where Marjoram And Thyme, the love of bees, perfume the air; And where the Cynorrhodon with the rose For fragrance vies; for in the thirsty soil Most fragrant breathe the aromatic tribes.Line 280 There bid thy roofs high on the basking steep Ascend, there light thy hospitable fires. And let them see the winter morn arise,

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The summer evening blushing in the west, While with umbrageous oaks the ridge behindLine 285 O'erhung, defends you from the blust'ring north, And bleak affliction of the peevish east. O! when the growling winds contend, and all The ounding forest fluctuates in the storm, To sink in warm repose, and hear the dinLine 290 Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights Above the luxury of vulgar sleep. The murmuring rivulet, and the hoarser strain Of waters rushing o'er the slippery rocks, Will nightly lull you to ambrosial rest.Line 295 To please the fancy is no trifling good, Where health is studied, for whatever moves The mind with calm delight, promotes the just And natural movements of th' harmonious frame. Besides, the sportive brook for ever shakesLine 300 The trembling air; that floats from hill to hill, From vale to mountain, with incessant change Of purest element, refreshing still Your airy seat, and uninfected goods. Chiefly for this I praise the man who buildsLine 305 High on the breezy ridge, whose lofty sides Th' etherial deep with endless billows laves. His purer mansion nor contagious years Shall reach, nor deadly putrid airs annoy.

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BUT may no fogs, from lake, or fenny plain,Line 310 Involve my hill. And wheresoe'er you build, Whether on sun-burnt Epsom, or the plains Wash'd by the silent Lee; in Chelsea low, Or high Blackheath with wint'ry winds assail'd; Dry be your house: but airy more than warm.Line 315 Else every breath of ruder wind will strike Your tender body thro' with rapid pains; Fierce coughs will teize you, hoarseness bind your voice, Or moist Gravedo load your aching brows: These to defy, and all the fates that dwellLine 320 In cloister'd air, tainted with steaming life, Let lofty cielings grace your ample rooms; And still at azure noontide may your dome At every window drink the liquid sky.
NEED we the funny situation here,Line 325 And theatres open to the south, commend? Here, where the morning's misty breath infests More than the torrid noon? How sickly grow, How pale, the plants in those ill-fated vales That, circled round with the gigantic heapLine 330 Of mountains, never felt, nor never hope To feel the genial vigour of the sun! While on the neighbouring hill the rose inflames The verdant spring; in virgin beauty blows The tender lily, languishingly sweet;Line 335

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O'er every hedge the wanton woodbine roves, And autumn ripens in the summer's ray. Nor less the warmer living tribes demand The fost'ring sun: whose energy divine Dwells not in mortal fire, whose generous heatLine 240 Glows thro' the mass of grosser elements, And kindles into life the pond'rous spheres. Chear'd by thy kind invigorating warmth, We court thy beams, great majesty of day! If not the soul, the regent of this world,Line 345 First-born of heaven, and only less than God!

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THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH. BOOK II. DIET.

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THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH. BOOK II. DIET.

ENOUGH of air. A desart subject now, Rougher and wilder, rises to my sight. A barren waste, where not a garland grows To bind the muse's brow; not even a proud Stupendous solitude frowns o'er the heath,Line 5 To rouse a noble horror in the soul: But rugged paths fatigue, and error leads Thro' endless labyrinths the devious feet. Farewel, etherial Fields! the humbler arts Of life; the table and the homely Gods,Line 10 Demand my song. Elysian gales adieu!

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THE blood, the fountain whence the spirits flow, The generous stream that waters every part, And motion, vigour, and warm life conveys To every particle that moves or lives;Line 15 This vital fluid, thro' unnumber'd tubes Pour'd by the heart, and to the heart again Refunded; scourg'd for ever round and round, Enrag'd with heat and toil, at last forgets Its balmy nature; virulent and thinLine 20 It grows; and now, but that a thousand gates Are open to its flight, it would destroy The parts it cherish'd and repair'd before. Besides, the flexible and tender tubes Melt in the mildest, most nectareous tideLine 25 That ripening nature rolls; as in the stream Its crumbling banks; but what the vital force Of plastic fluids hourly batters down, That very force, those plastic particles Rebuild: so mutable the state of man.Line 30 For this the watchful appetite was giv'n, Daily with fresh materials to repair This unavoidable expence of life, This necessary waste of flesh and blood. Hence the concoctive powers, with various art,Line 35 Subdue the cruder aliments to chyle; The chyle to blood; the foamy purple tide To liquors, which thro' finer arteries To different parts their winding course pursue; Line 40

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To try new Changes, and new forms put on,Line 40 Or for the public, or some private use.
NOTHING so foreign but th' athletic hind Can labour into blood. The hungry meal Alone he fears, or aliments too thin, By violent powers too easily subdu'd,Line 45 Too soon expell'd. His daily labour thaws, To friendly chyle, the most rebellious mass That salt can harden, or the smoke of years; Nor does his gorge the rancid bacon rue, Nor that which Cestria sends, tenacious pasteLine 50 Of solid milk. But ye of softer clay Infirm and delicate! and ye who waste With pale and bloated sloth the tedious day! Avoid the stubborn aliment, avoid The full repast; and let sagacious ageLine 55 Grow wiser, lesson'd by the dropping teeth.
HALF subtiliz'd to chyle, the liquid food Readiest obeys th' assimilating powers; And soon the tender vegetable ma•••• Relents; and soon the young of those that treadLine 60 The stedfast earth, or cleave the green abyss, Or pathless sky. And if the Steer must fall, In youth and vigour glorious let him die; Nor stay till rigid age, or heavy ails, Absolve him ill-requited from the yoke.Line 65

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Some with high forage, and luxuriant ease, Indulge the veteran Ox; but wiser thou, From the bleak mountain or the barren downs, Expect the flocks by frugal nature fed; A race of purer blood, with exerciseLine 70 Refin'd and scanty fare: For, old or young, The stall'd are never healthy; nor the cramm'd. Not all the culinary arts can tame, To wholsome food, th' abominable growth Of rest and gluttony; the prudent tasteLine 75 Rejects like bane such loathsome lusciousness. The languid stomach curses even the pure Delicious fat, and all the race of oil; For more the oily aliments relax Its feeble tone; and with the eager lymphLine 80 (Fond to incorporate with all it meets) Coily they mix; and shun with slippery wiles The woo'd embrace. Th' irresoluble oil, So gentle, late and blandishing, in floods Of rancid bilc o'erflows: what tumults hence,Line 85 What horrors rise, were nauseous to relate. Chuse leaner viands, ye of jovial make! Chuse sober meals; and rouse to active life Your cumbrous clay; nor on th' enfeebling down, Irresolute, protract the morning hours.Line 90 But let the man, whose bones are thinly clad, With chearful ease, and succulent repast,

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Improve his slender habit. Each extreme From the blest mean of sanity departs.
I COULD relate what table this demands,Line 95 Or that complexion; what the various powers Of various foods: but fifty years would roll, And fifty more, before the tale were done. Besides, there often lurks some nameless, strange, Peculiar thing; nor on the skin display'd,Line 100 Felt in the pulse, nor in the habit seen; Which finds a poison in the food that most The temp'rature affects. There are, whose blood Impetuous rages thro' the turgid veins, Who better bear the fiery fruits of Ind,Line 105 Than the moist Melon, or pale Cucumber. Of chilly nature others fly the board Supply'd with slaughter, and the vernal pow'rs For cooler, kinder sustenance, implore. Some even the generous nutriment detest,Line 110 Which, in the shell, the sleeping Embryo ears▪ Some, more unhappy still, repent the gifts Of Pales; soft, delicious and benign: The balmy quintescence of every flower, And every grateful herb that decks the spring,Line 115 The fost'ring dew of tender sprouting life; The best refection of declining age; The kind restorative of those who lie Half-dead and panting, from the doubtful strife Line 120

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Of nature struggling in the grasp of death.Line 120 Try all the bounties of this fertile globe, There is not such a salutary food, As suits with every stomach. But (except, Amid the mingled mass of fish and fowl, And boil'd and bak'd, you hesitate by whichLine 125 You sunk oppress'd, or whether not by all▪) Taught by experience soon you may discern What pleases, what offends. Avoid the cates That lull the sicken'd appetite too long; Or heave with feverish flushings all the face,Line 130 Burn in the palms, and parch the rough'ning tongue▪ Or much diminish, or too much increase Th' expence which nature's wise oeconomy, Without or waste or avarice maintains. Such cates abjur'd, let prouling hunger loose,Line 135 And bid the curious palate roam at will; They scarce can err amid the various stores That burst the teeming entrails of the world.
LED by sagacious taste, the ruthless king Of beasts on blood and slaughter only lives:Line 140 The tyger, form'd alike to cruel meals, Would at the manger starve: of milder seeds, The generous horse to herbage and to grain Confines his wish; tho' fabling Greece resound The Thracian steeds with human carnage wild.Line 145 Prompted by instinct's never-erring power,

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Each creature known its proper aliment; But man, th' inhabitant of every clime, With all the commoners of nature feeds. Directed, bounded, by this pow'r within,Line 150 Their cravings are well-aim'd: voluptous man Is by superior faculties misled; Misled from pleasure even in quest of joy. Sated with nature's boons, what thousands seek, With dishes tortur'd from their native taste,Line 155 And mad variety to spur beyond Its wiser will the jaded appetite! Is this for pleasure? Learn a juster taste; And know, that temperance is true luxury. Or is it pride? Pursue some nobler aim.Line 160 Dismiss your parasites, who praise for hire; And earn the fair esteem of honest men, Whose praise is fame. Form'd of such clay as yours, The sick, the needy, shiver at your gates. Even modest want may bless your hand unseen,Line 165 Tho' hush'd in patient wretchedness at home. Is there no virgin, grac'd with every charm But that which binds the mercenary vow? No youth of genius, whose neglected bloom Unfoster'd sickens in the barren shade?Line 170 No worthy man, by fortune's random blows▪ Or by a heart too generous and humane, Constrain'd to leave his happy natal seat, And sigh for wants more bitter than his own? Line 175

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There are, while human miseries abound,Line 175 A thousand ways to waste superfluous wealth, Without one fool or flatterer at your board, Without one hour of sickness of disgust.
BUT other ills th' ambiguous feast pursue, Besides provoking the lascivious taste.Line 180 Such various foods, tho' harmless each alone, Each other violate; and oft we see What strife is brew'd, and what pernicious bane, From combinations of innoxious things. Th' unbounded taste I mean not to confineLine 185 To hermit's diet, needlesly severe. But would you long the sweets of health enjoy, Or husband pleasure, at one impious meal Exhaust not half the bounties of the year, And of each realm. It matters not mean whileLine 190 How much to morrow differ from to day; So far indulge: 'tis fit, besides, that man, To change obnoxious, be to change inur'd. But stay the curious appetite, and taste With caution fruits you never tried before:Line 195 For want of use the kindest aliment Sometimes offends; while custom tames the rage Of poison to mild amity with life.
So heav'n has form'd us to the general taste Of all its gifts; so custom has improv'dLine 200

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This bent of nature; that few simple foods, Of all that earth, or air, or ocean yield, But by excess offend. Beyond the sense Of light refection, at the genial board Indulge not often; nor protract the feastLine 205 To dull satiety; till soft and slow▪ A drowzy death creeps on, th' expansive soul Oppress'd, and smother'd the celestial fire. The stomach, urg'd beyond its active tone, Hardly to nutrimental chyle subduesLine 210 The softest food: unfinish'd and deprav'd, The chyle, in all its future wand'rings, owns Its turbid fountain; not by purer streams So to be clear'd, but foulness will remain. To sparkling wine what ferment can exaltLine 215 Th' unripen'd grape? Or what mechanic skill From the crude ore can spin the ductile gold? Gross riot treasures up a wealthy fund Of plagues: but more immedicable ills Attend the lean extreme. For physic knowsLine 220 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 repairLine 225 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,

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Thro' wither'd veins imbibe the vernal dew. When hunger calls, obey; nor often waitLine 230 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 absorbLine 235 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 borne; And hear, ye hardiest sons that Albion breeds,Line 240 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,Line 245 Than war, or famine. While the vital fire Burns feebly, heap not the green fuel on; But prudently foment the wandering spark With what the soonest feels its kindred touch: Be frugal ev'n of that: a little giveLine 250 At first; that kindled, add a little more; Till, by deliberate nourishing, the flame Reviv'd, with all its wonted vigour glows.
BUT tho' the two (the full and the jejune) Extremes have each their vice; it much availsLine 255

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Ever with gentle tide to ebb and flow From this to that: so nature learns to bear Whatever chance or headlong appetite May bring. Besides, a meagre day subdues The cruder clods by sloth or luxuryLine 260 Collected; and unloads the wheels of life. Sometimes a coy aversion to the feast Comes on, while yet no blacker omen lours; Then is a time to shun the tempting board. Were it your natal or your nuptial day.Line 265 Perhaps a fast so seasonable starves The latent seeds of woe, which rooted once Might cost you labour. But the day return'd Of festal luxury, the wise indulge Most in the tender vegetable breed:Line 270 Then chiefly when the summer's beams inflame The brazen heavens; or angry Syrius sheds A feverish taint thro' the still gulph of air. The moist cool viands then, and flowing cup From the fresh dairy-virgin's liberal hand,Line 275 Will save your head from harm, tho' round the world The dreaded Causos roll his wasteful fires. Pale humid Winter loves the generous board, The meal more copious, and a warmer fare; And longs, with old wood and old wine, to cheerLine 280 His quaking heart. The seasons which divide Th' empires of heat and cold; by neither claim'd,

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Influenc'd by both; a middle regimen Impose. Thro' autumn's languishing domain Descending, nature by degrees invitesLine 285 To glowing luxury. But from the depth Of winter, when th' invigorated year Emerges; when Favonius flush'd with love, Toyful and young, in every breeze descends More warm and wanton on his kindling bride;Line 290 Then, shepherds, then begin to spare your flocks, And learn, with wise humanity, to check The lust of blood. Now pregnant earth commits A various offspring to th' indulgent sky: Now bounteous nature feeds with lavish handLine 295 The prone creation; yields what once suffic'd Their dainty sovereign, when the world was young; E'er yet the barbarous thirst of blood had seiz'd The human breast. Each rolling month matures The food that suits it most; so does each clime.Line 300
FAR in the horrid realms of winter, where Th' establish'd ocean heaps a monstrous waste Of shining rocks and mountains to the pole; There lives a hardy race, whose plainest wants Relentless earth, their cruel step-mother,Line 305 Regards not. On the waste of iron fields, Untam'd, untractable, no harvests wave: Pomona hates them, and the clownish God Who tends the garden. In this frozen world Line 310

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Such cooling gifts were vain: a fitter mealLine 310 Is earn'd with ease; for here the fruitful spawn Of Ocean swarms, and heaps their genial board With generous fare and luxury profuse. These are their bread, the only bread they know. These, and their willing slave the deer, that cropsLine 315 The shrubby herbage on their meager hills. Girt by the burning zone, not thus the south Her swarthy sons, in either nd, maintains: Or thirsty Lybia; from whose fervid loins The lion bursts, and every fiend that roamsLine 320 Th' affrighted wilderness. The mountain herd, Adust and dry, no sweet repast affords; Nor does the tepid main such kinds produce, So perfect, so delicious, as the stores Of icy Zembla. Rashly where the bloodLine 325 Brews feverish frays; where scarce the tubes sustain Its tumid fervor and tempestuous course; Kind nature tempts not to such gifts as these. But here in livid ripeness melts the grape; Here, finish'd by invigorating suns,Line 330 Thro' the green shade the golden Orange glows; Spontaneous here the turgid Melon yields A generous pulp; the Coco swells on high With milky riches; and in horrid mail The soft Ananas wraps its tender sweets.Line 335 Earth's vaunted progeny: in ruder air Too coy to flourish, even too proud to live;

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Or hardly rais'd by artificial fire To vapid life. Here with a mother's smile Glad Amalthea pours her copious horn.Line 340 Here buxom Ceres reigns: th' autumnal sea In boundless billows fluctuates o'er their plains. What suits the climate best, what suits the men, Nature profuses most, and most the taste Demands. The Fountain, edg'd with racy wineLine 345 Or acid fruit, bedews their thirsty souls. The breeze eternal breathing round their limbs Supports in else intolerable air: While the cool Palm, the Plantain, and the grove That waves on gloomy Lebanon, assuageLine 350 The torrid hell that beams upon their heads.
Now come, ye Naiads, to the fountains lead; Now let me wander thro' your gelid reign. I burn to view th' enthusiastic wilds By mortal else untrod. I hear the dinLine 255 Of waters thundering o'er the ruin'd cliffs. With holy rev'rence I approach the rocks Whence glide the streams renown'd in ancient song Here from the desart down the rumbling steep First springs the Nile; here bursts the sounding PoLine 360 In angry waves; Euphrates hence devolves A mighty flood to water half the East; And there, in Gothic solitude reclin'd, The chearless Tanais pours his hoary urn. Line 365

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What solemn twilight! What stupendous shades!Line 365 Enwarp these infant floods! Thro' 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 Stretch their extravagant arms athwart the gloom.Line 370 Are these the confines of some fairy world? A land of Genii? Say, beyond these wilds What unknown nations? If indeed beyond Aught habitable lies. And whither leads, To what strange regions, or of bliss or pain,Line 375 That subterraneous way? Propitious maids, Conduct me, while with fearful steps I tread This trembling ground. The task remains to sing Your gifts (so Paeon, so the powers of health Command) to praise your chrystal element:Line 380 The chief ingredient in heaven's various works; Whose flexile genius sparkles in the gem, Grows firm in oak, and fugitive in wine; The vehicle, the source of nutriment And life, to all that vegetate or live.Line 385
O COMFORTABLE streams! With eager lips And trembling hand the languid thirsty quaff New life in you; fresh vigour fills their veins. No warmer cups the rural ages knew; None warmer sought the fires of human-kind.Line 390 Happy in temperate peace! Their equal days

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Felt not th' alternate fits of feverish mirth, And sick dejection. Still serene and pleas'd, They knew no pains but what the tender soul With pleasure yields to, and would ne'er forget.Line 395 Blest with divine immunity from ails, Long centuries they liv'd; their only fate Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death. Oh! could those worthies from the world of Gods Return to visit their degenerate sons,Line 400 How would they scorn the joys of modern time, With all our art and toil improv'd to pain! Too happy they! But wealth brought luxury, And luxury on sloth begot disease.
LEARN temperance, friends; and hear without disdainLine 405 The choice of water. Thus the Coan sage Opin'd, and thus the learn'd of every school. What least of foreign principles partakes Is best: the lightest then; what bears the touch Of fire the least, and soonest mounts in air;Line 410 The most insipid; the most void of smell. Such the rude mountain from his horrid sides Pours down; such waters in the sandy vale For ever boil, alike of winter frosts And summer's heat secure. The lucid stream,Line 415 O'er rocks resounding, or for many a mile

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Hurl'd down the pebbly channel, wholsome yields And mellow draughts; except when winter thaws, And half the mountains melt into the tide. Tho' thirst were ne'er so resolute, avoidLine 420 The sordid lake, and all such drowsy floods As fill from Lethe Belgia's slow canals; (With rest corrupt, with vegetation green; Squalid with generation, and the birth▪ Of little monsters;) till the power of fireLine 425 Has from profane embraces disengag'd The violated lymph. The virgin stream In boiling wastes its finer soul in air.
NOTHING like simple element dilutes The food, or gives the chyle so soon to flow.Line 430 But where the stomach, indolently given, Toys with its duty, animate with wine Th' insipid stream: tho' golden Ceres yields A more voluptuous, a more sprightly draught; Perhaps more active. Wine unmix'd, and allLine 435 The gluey floods that from the vex'd abyss Of fermentation spring; with spirit fraught, And furious with intoxicating fire; Retard concoction, and preserve unthaw'd Th' embodied mass. You see what countless years,Line 440 Embalm'd in fiery quintescence of wine, The puny wonders of the reptile world, The tender rudiments of life, the slim

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Unrav'lings of minute anatomy, Maintain their texture, and unchang'd remain!Line 445
WE curse not wine, the vile excess we blame; More fruitful than th' accumulated board Of pain and misery. For the subtle draught Faster and surer swells the vital tide; And with more active poison than the floodsLine 450 Of grosser crudity convey, pervades The far-remote meanders of our frame. Ah! fly deceiver! Branded o'er and o'er, Yet still believ'd! Exulting o'er the wreck Of sober Vows! But the Parnassian maidsLine 455 Another time perhaps shall sing the joys, The fatal charms, the many woes of wine; Perhaps its various tribes, and various powers.
MEANTIME, I would not always dread the bowl, Nor every trespass shun. The feverish strife,Line 460 Rous'd by the rare debauch, subdues, expels The loitering crudities that burthen life; And, like a torrent full and rapid, clears Th' obstructed tubes. Besides, this restless world Is full of chances, which by habit's powerLine 465 To learn to bear is easier than to shun. Ah! when ambition, meagre love of gold, Or sacred country calls, with mellowing wine To moisten well the thirsty suffrages; Line 470

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Say how, unseason'd to the midnight fraysLine 470 Of comus and his rout, wilt thou contend With Centaurs long to hardy deeds inur'd? Then learn to revel; but by slow degrees: By slow degrees the liberal arts are won; And Hercules grew strong. But when you smoothLine 475 The brows of care, indulge your festive vein In cups by well-inform'd experience found The least your bane; and only with your friends. There are sweet follies, frailties to be seen By friends alone, and men of generous minds.Line 480
OH! seldom may the fated hours return Of drinking deep! I would not daily taste, Except when life declines, even sober cups. Weak withering age no rigid law forbids, With frugal nectar, smooth and slow with balm,Line 485 The sapless habit daily to bedew, And give the hesitating wheels of life Gliblier to play. But youth has better joys; And is it wise when youth with pleasure flows, To squander the reliefs of age and pain?Line 490
WHAT dext'rous thousands just within the goal Of wild debauch direct their nightly course Perhaps no sickly qualms bedim their days, No morning admonitions shock the head. But ah! what woes remain! Life rolls apace,Line 495

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And tottering empires rush by their own weight. This huge rotundity we tread grows old; And all those worlds that roll around the sun,Line 545 The sun himself shall die; and ancient Night Again involve the desolate abyss: Till the great FATHER thro' the lifeless gloom Extend his arm to light another world, And bid new planets roll by other laws.Line 550 For thro' the regions of unbounded space, Where unconfin'd omnipotence has room, BEING, in various systems, fluctuates still Between creation and abhorr'd decay; It ever did▪ perhaps and ever will.Line 555 New worlds are still emerging from the deep; The old descending, in their turns to rise.

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THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH. BOOK III. EXERCISE.

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THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH. BOOK III. EXERCISE.

THRO' various toils th' advent'rous muse has past; But half the toil, and more than half, re|mains. Rude is her theme, and hardly fit for song; Plain, and of little ornament▪ and I But little practis'd in th' Aonian arts.Line 5 Yet not in vain such labours have we tried, If ought these lays the sickle health confirm. To you, ye delicate, I write; for you I tame my youth to philosophic cares, And grow 〈◊〉〈◊〉 paler by the midnight lamps.Line 10 Not to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with timorous rules

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A hardy frame; nor needlesly to brave Unglorious dangers, proud of mortal strength; Is all the lesson that in wholsome years Concerns the strong. His Care were ill bestow'dLine 15 Who would with warm effeminacy nurse The thriving oak, which on the mountain's brow Bears all the blasts that sweep the wint'ry heav'n.
BEHOLD the labourer of the glebe, who toils In dust, in rain, in cold and sultry skies:Line 20 Save but the grain from mildews and the flood, Nought anxious he what sickly stars ascend. He knows no laws by Esculapius given; He studies none. Yet him nor midnight fogs Infest, nor those envenom'd shafts that flyLine 25 When rabid Sirius fires th' autumnal noon. His habit pure with plain and temperate meale, Robust with labour, and by custom steel'd To every casualty of varied life; Serene he bears the peevish eastern blast,Line 30 And uninfected breaths the mortal South.
SUCH the reward of rude and sober life; Of labour such. By health the peasant's toil Is well repaid; if exercise were pain Indeed, and temperance pain. By arts like theseLine 35 Laconia nurs'd of old her hardy sons;

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And Rome's unconquer'd legions urg'd their way, Unhurt, thro' every toil in every clime.
TOIL, and be strong. By toil the flaccid nerves Grow firm, and gain a more compacted tone;Line 40 The greener juices are by toil subdu'd, Mellow'd, and subtiliz'd; the vapid old Expell'd, and all the rancor of the blood. Come, my companions, ye who feel the charms Of nature and the year; come, let us strayLine 45 Where chance or fancy leads our roving walk: Come, while the soft voluptuous breezes fan The fleecy heavens, enwrap the limbs in balm, And shed a charming languor o'er the soul. Nor when bright Winter sows with prickly frostLine 50 The vigorous ether, in unmanly warmth Indulge at home; nor even when Eurus' blasts This way and that convolve the lab'ring woods. My liberal walks, save when the skies in rain Or fogs relent, no season should confineLine 55 Or to the cloister'd gallery or arcade. Go, climb the mountain; from th' etherial source Imbibe the recent gale. The chearful morn Beams o'er the hills; go, mount th' exulting steed, Already, see, the deep-mouth'd beagles catchLine 60 The tainted mazes; and, on eager sport Intent, with emulous impatience try Each doubtful tract. Or, if a nobler prey

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Delight you more, go chase the desperate deer; And thro' its deepest solitudes awakeLine 65 The vocal forest with the jovial horn.
BUT if the breathless chase o'er hill and dale Exceed your strength; a sport of less fatigue, Not less delightful, the prolific stream Affords. The chrystal rivulet, that o'er.Line 70 A stony channel rolls its rapid maze, Swarms with the silver fry. Such, thro' the bounds Of pastoral Stafford, runs the brawling Trent; Such Eden, sprung from Cumbrian mountains; such The Esk, o'erhurg with woods; and such the streamLine 75 On whose Arcadian banks I first drew air, 〈◊〉〈◊〉; till now, except in Doric lays Tun'd to her murmurs by her love-sick swains, Unknown in song: tho' not a purer stream, Thro' meads more flow'ry, or more romantic groves,Line 80 Roll toward the western main. Hail sacred flood! May still thy hospitable swains be blest In rural innocence; thy mountains still Teem with the fleecy race; thy tuneful woods For ever flourish; and thy vales look gayLine 85 With painted meadows, and the golden grain! Oft, with thy blooming sons, when life was new, Sportive and petulant, and charm'd with toys, In thy transparent eddies have I lav'd: Oft trac'd with patient steps thy fairy banks,Line 90

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With the well-imitated fly to hook The eager trout, and with the slender line And yielding rod sollicite to the shore The struggling panting prey; while vernal clouds And tepid gales obscur'd the ruffled pool,Line 95 And from the deeps call'd forth the wanton swarms.
FORM'D on the Samian school, or those of Ind, There are who think these pastimes scarce humane. Yet in my mind (and not relentless I) His life is pure that wears no fouler stains.Line 100 But if thro' genuine tenderness of heart, Or secret want of relish for the game, You shun the glories of the chace, nor care To haunt the peopled stream; the garden yields A soft amusement, an humane delight.Line 105 To raise th' insipid nature of the ground; Or tame its savage genius to the grace Of careless sweet rusticity, that seems The amiable result of happy chance, Is to create; and gives a god-like joy,Line 110 Which every year improves. Nor thou disdain To check the lawless riot of the trees, To plant the grove, or turn the barren mould. O happy he! whom, when his years decline, (His fortune and his fame by worthy meansLine 115 Attain'd, and equal to his moderate mind; His life approv'd by all the wise and good,

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Even envy'd by the vain) the peaceful groves Of Epicurus, from this stormy world Receive to rest; of all ungrateful caresLine 120 Absolv'd, and sacred from the selfish crowd. Happiest of men! if the same soil invites A chosen few, companions of his youth, Once fellow-rakes perhaps, now rural friends; With whom in easy commerce to pursue,Line 125 Nature's free charms, and vie for sylvan fame: A fair ambition; void of strife or guile, Or jealousy, or pain to be outdone. Who plans th' inchanted garden, who directs The visto best, and best conducts the stream;Line 130 Whose groves the fastest thicken and ascend; Whom first the welcome spring salutes; who shews The earliest bloom, the sweetest, proudest charms, Of Flora; who best gives Pomona's juice To match the sprightly genius of Champain.Line 135 Thrice happy days! in rural business past. Blest winter nights! when, as the genial fire Chears the wide hall, his cordial family With soft domestic arts the hours beguile, And pleasing talk that starts no timorous fame,Line 140 With witless wantonness to hunt it down: Or thro' the fairy-land of tale or song Delighted wander, in fictitious fates Engag'd, and all that strikes humanity; Till lost in able, they the stealing hourLine 145

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Of timely rest forget. Sometimes, at eve, His neighbours lift the latch, and bless unbid His festal roof; while, o'er the light repast And sprightly cups, they mix in social joy; And, thro' the maze of conversation, traceLine 150 Whate'er amuses or improves the mind. Sometimes at eve (for I delight to taste The native zest and flavour of the fruit, Where sense grows wild, and takes of no manure). The decent, honest, chearful husbandman,Line 155 Should drown his labours in my friendly bowl; And at my table find himself at home.
WHATE'ER you study, in whate'er you sweat, Indulge your taste. Some love the manly foils; The tennis some; and some the graceful dance.Line 160 Others, more hardy, range the purple heath, Or naked stubble; where from field to field The sounding coveys urge their labouring flight; Eager amid the rising cloud to pour The gun's unerring thunder: and there areLine 165 Whom still the meed of the green archer charms. He chuses best, whose labour entertains His vacant fancy most: the toil you hate Fatigues you soon, and scarce improves your limbs. Line 170

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As beauty still has blemish; and the mindLine 170 The most accomplish'd its imperfect side; Few bodies are there of that happy mould But some one part is weaker than the rest: The legs, perhaps, or arms refuse their load, Or the chest labours. These assiduously,Line 175 But gently, in their proper arts employ'd, Acquire a vigour and elastic spring, To which they were not born. But weaker parts Abhor fatigue and violent discipline.
BEGIN with gentle toils; and, as your nervesLine 180 Grow firm, to hardier by just steps aspire. The prudent, even in every moderate walk, At first but saunter; and by slow degrees Increase their pace. This doctrine of the wise Well knows the master of the flying steed.Line 185 First from the goal the manag'd coursers play On bended reins; as yet the skilful youth Repress their foamy pride; but every breath The race grows warmer, and the tempest swells; Till all the fiery mettle has its way,Line 190 And the thick thunder hurries o'er the plain. When all at once from indolence to toil You spring, the fibres by the hasty shock Are tir'd and crack'd, before their unctuous coats, Compress'd, can pour the lubricating balm.Line 195 Besides, collected in the passive veins,

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The purple mass a sudden torrent rolls, O'erpowers the heart, and deluges the lungs With dangerous inundation: oft the source Of fatal woes; a cough that foams with blood.Line 200 Asthma, and eller Peripneumonie, Or the slow minings of the hectic fire.
TH' athletic fool, to whom what heav'n deny'd Of soul is well compensated in limbs, Oft from his rage, or brainless frolic, feelsLine 205 His vegetation and brute force decay. The men of better clay and finer mould Know nature; feel the human dignity; And scorn to vie with oxen or with apes. Pursu'd prolixly, even the gentlest toilLine 210 Is waste of health: repose by small fatigue Is earn'd; and (where your habit is not prone To thaw) by the first moisture of the brows. The fine and subtle spirits cost too much To be profus'd, too much the roscid balm.Line 215 But when the hard varieties of life You toil to learn; or try the dusty chace, Or the warm deeds of some important day: Hot from the field, indulge not yet your limbs In wish'd repose, nor court the fanning gale,Line 220 Nor taste the spring. O! by the sacred tears Of widows, orphans, mothers, sisters, sires,

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Forbear! No other pestilence has driven Such myriads o'er th' irremeable deep. Why this so fatal, the sagacious museLine 225 Thro' nature's cunning labyrinths could trace: But there are screts which who knows not now, Must, ere he reach them, climb the heapy Alps Of science; and devote seven years to toil. Besides, I would not stun your patient carsLine 230 With what it little boots you to attain. He knows enough, the mariner, who knows Where lurk the shelves, and where the whirlpools boil. What signs portend the storm: to subtler minds He leaves to scan, from what mysterious causeLine 235 Charybdis rages in th' Ionian wave; Whence those impetuous currents in the main, Which neither oar nor sail can stem; and why The rough'ning deep expects the storm, as sure As red Orion mounts the shrouded heaven.Line 240
Is ancient times, when Rome with Athens vied For polish'd luxury and useful arts; All hot and reeking from th' Olympic strife. And warm Palestra, in the tepid bath Th' athletic youth relax'd their weary'd limbs.Line 245 Soft oils bedew'd them, with the grateful pow'rs Of Nard and Cassia fraught, to sooth and heal The cherish'd nerves. Our less voluptuous clime Not much invites us to such arts as these. Line 250

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'Tis not for those, whom gelid skies embrace,Line 250 And chilling fogs; whose perspiration feels Such frequent bars from Eurus and the North; 'Tis not for those to cultivate a skin Too soft; or teach the recremental fume Too fast to crowd thro' such precarious ways.Line 255 For thro' the small arterial mouths, that pierce In endless millions the close-woven skin, The baser fluids in a constant stream Escape, and viewless melt into the winds. While this eternal, this most copious wasteLine 260 Of blood degenerate into vapid brine, Maintains its wonted measure; all the powers Of health befriend you, all the wheels of life With ease and pleasure move: but this restrain'd Or more or less, so more or less you feelLine 265 The functions labour. From this fatal source What woes descend is never to be sung. To take their numbers, were to count the sands That ride in whirlwind the parch'd Lybian air; Or waves that, when the blustering North embroilsLine 270 The Baltic, thunder on the German shore. Subject not then, by soft emollient arts, This grand expence, on which your fates depend, To every caprice of the sky; nor thwart The genius of your clime: for from the bloodLine 275 Least fickle rise the recremental steams, And least obnoxious to the styptic air,

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Which breathe thro' straiter and more callous pores. The temper'd Scythian hence, half naked treads His boundless snows, nor rues th' inclement heaven;Line 280 And hence our painted ancestors defied The East; nor curs'd, like us, their sickle sky.
THE body, moulded by the clime, endures, Th' Equator 〈◊〉〈◊〉 or Hyperborean frost: Except by habits foreign to its turn,Line 285 Unwise, you counteract its forming pow'r. Rude at the first, the winter shocks you less. By long acquaintance: study then your sky, Form to its manners your obsequious frame. And learn to suffer what you cannot shun.Line 290 Against the rigours of a damp cold heav'n To fortify their bodies, some frequent The gelid cistern; and, where nought forbids. I praise their dauntless heart. A frame so steel'd Dreads not the cough, nor those ungenial blasts,Line 295 That breathe the Tertian or fell Rheumatism; The nerves so temper'd never quit their tone, No chronic languors haunt such hardy breasts. But all things have their bounds: and he who makes By daily use the kindest regimenLine 300 Essential to his health, should never mix With human kind, nor art nor trade pursue: He not the safe vicissitudes of life Without some shock endures; ill-fitted he Line 305

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To want the known, or bear unusual things:Line 305 Besides, the powerful remedies of pain (Since pain in spite of all our care will come) Should never with your prosperous days of health Grow too familiar: For by frequent use The strongest medicines lose their healing power,Line 310 And even the surest poisons theirs to kill.
LET those who from the frozen Arctos reach Parch'd Mauritania, or the sultry West, Or the wide flood that waters Indostan, Plunge thrice a day, and in the tepid waveLine 315 Untwist their stubborn pores; that full and free Th' evaporation thro' the soft'ned skin May bear proportion to the swelling blood. So shall they scape the fever's rapid flames; So feel untainted the hot breath of hell.Line 320 With us, the man of no complaint demands The warm ablution, just enough to clear The sluices of the skin, enough to keep The body sacred from indecent soil. Still to be pure, even did it not conduceLine 325 (As much it does) to health, were greatly worth Your daily pains. 'Tis this adorns the rich; The want of this is poverty's worst woe: With this external virtue, age maintains A decent grace; without it, youth and charmsLine 330 Are loathsome. This the skilful virgin knows:

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So doubtless do your wives. For married sires, As well as lovers, still pretend to taste; Nor is it less (all prudent wives can tell) To lose a husband's, than a lover's heart.Line 335
BUT now the hours and seasons when to toil, From foreign themes recal my wandering song. Some labour fasting, or but slightly fed, To lull the grinding stomach's hungry rage: Where nature feeds too corpulent a frame,Line 340 'Tis wisely done. For while the thirsty veins, Impatient of lean penury, devour The treasur'd oil, then is the happiest time To shake the lazy balsam from its cells. Now while the stomach from the full repastLine 345 Subsides, but ere returning hunger gnaws, Ye leaner habits give an hour to toil: And ye whom no luxuriancy of growth Oppresses yet, or threatens to oppress. But from the recent meal no labours please,Line 350 Of limbs or mind. For now the cordial powers Claim all the wandering spirits to a work Of strong and subtle toil, and great event; A work of time: and you may rue the day You hurried, with ill-seasoned exercise,Line 355 A half concocted chyle into the blood. The body overcharg'd with unctuous phlegm Much toil demands: the lean elastic less.

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While winter chills the blood, and binds the veins, No labours are too hard: by those you 'scapeLine 360 The slow diseases of the torpid year; Endless to name; to one of which alone, To that which tears the nerves, the toil of slaves Is pleasure: oh! from such inhuman pains May all be free who merit not the wheel!Line 365 But from the burning Lion when the sun Pours down his sultry wrath; now while the blood Too much already maddens in the veins, And all the finer fluids thro' the skin Explore their flight; me, near the cool cascadeLine 370 Reclin'd, or sauntring in the lofty grove, No needless slight occasion should engage To pant and sweat beneath the fiery noon. Now the fresh morn alone and mellow eve To shady walks and active rural sportsLine 375 Invite. But while the chilling dews descend, May nothing tempt you to the cold embrace Of humid skies: tho' 'tis no vulgar joy To trace the horrors of the solemn wood, While the soft evening saddens into night:Line 380 Tho' the sweet poet of the vernal groves Melts all the night in strains of amorous woe.
THE shades descend, and midnight o'er the world Expands her fable wings. Great nature droops Thro' all her works. Now happy he whose toilLine 385 Has o'er his languid powerless limbs diffus'd

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A pleasing lassitude: he not in vain Invokes the gentle deity of dreams. His powers the most voluptuously dissolve In soft repose: on him the balmy dewsLine 390 Of sleep with double nutriment descend. But would you sweetly waste the blank of night In deep oblivion; or on fancy's wings Visit the paradise of happy dreams, And waken chearful as the lively morn;Line 395 Oppress not nature sinking down to rest With feasts too late, too solid, or too full. But be the first concoction half-matur'd, Ere you to mighty indolence resign Your passive faculties. He from the toilsLine 400 And troubles of the day to heavier toil Retires, whom trembling from the tower that rocks Amid the clouds, or Calpe's hideous height, The busy daemons hurl, or in the main O'erwhelm, or bury struggling under ground.Line 405 Not all a monarch's luxury the woes Can counterpoise, of that most wretched man, Whose nights are shaken with the frantic fits Of wild Orestes; whose delirious brain, Stung by the furies, works with poisoned thought:Line 410 While pale and monstrous painting shocks the soul; And mangled consciousness bemoans itself For ever torn; and chaos floating round. What dreams presage, what dangers these or those Portend to sanity, tho' prudent seersLine 415

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Reveal'd of old, and men of deathless fame; We would not to the superstitious mind Suggest new throbs, new vanities of fear. 'Tis ours to teach you from the peaceful night To banish omens, and all restless woes.Line 420
IN study some protract the silent hours, Which others consecrate to mirth and wine; And sleep till noon, and hardly live till night. But surely this redeems not from the shades One hour of life. Nor does it nought availLine 425 What season you to drowsy Morpheus give Of th' ever varying circle of the day; Or whether, thro' the tedious winter gloom, You tempt the midnight or the morning damps. The body, fresh and vigorous from repose,Line 430 Defies the early fogs; but, by the toils Of wakeful day, exhausted and unstrung, Weakly resists the night's unwholsome breath. The grand Discharge, th' effusion of the skin, Slowly impair'd, the languid maladiesLine 435 Creep on, and thro' the sick'ning functions steal. So, when the chilling East invades the spring, The delicate Narcissus pines away In hectic languor; and a slow disease Taints all the family of flowers, condemn'dLine 440 To cruel heav'ns. But why, already prone To fade, should beauty cherish its own bane?

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O shame! O pity! nipt with pale Quadrille, And midnight cares, the bloom of Albion dies!
By toil subdu'd, the Warrior and the HindLine 445 Sleep fast and deep; their active functions soon With generous streams the subtle tubes supply, And soon the tonick irritable nerves Feel the fresh impulse, and awake the soul. The sons of Indolence, with long repose,Line 450 Grow torpid; and, with slowest Lethe drunk, Feebly and lingringly return to life, Blunt every sense, and powerless every limb. Ye, prone to sleep (whom sleeping most annoys) On the hard mattrass or elastic couchLine 455 Extend your limbs, and wean yourselves from sloth; Nor grudge the lean projector, of dry brain And springy nerves, the blandishments of down. Nor envy while the buried bacchanal Exhales his surfeit in prolixer dreams.Line 460
HE without riot in the balmy feast Of life, the wants of nature has supplied Who rises cool, serene, and full of soul. But pliant nature more or less demands, As custom forms her; and all sudden changeLine 465 She hates of habit, even from bad to good. If faults in life, or new emergencies, From habits urge you by long time confirm'd, Slow may the change arrive, and stage by stage; Line 470

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Slow as the shadow o'er the dial moves,Line 470 Slow as the stealing progress of the year.
OBSERVE the circling year. How unperceiv'd Her seasons change! Behold! by slow degrees, Stern Winter tam'd into a ruder spring; The ripen'd Spring a milder summer glows;Line 475 Departing Summer sheds Pomona's store; And aged Autumn brews the Winter-storm. Slow as they come, these changes come not void Of mortal shocks: the cold and torrid reigns, The two great periods of th' important year,Line 480 Are in their first approaches seldom safe: Funereal autumn all the sickly dread, And the black fates deform the lovely spring. He well advis'd, who taught our wiser ires Early to borrow Muscovy's warm spoils,Line 485 Ere the first frost has touch'd the tender blade; And late resign them, tho' the wanton spring Should deck her charms with all her sister's rays. For while the effluence of the skin maintains Its native measure, the pleuritic SpringLine 490 Glides harmless by; and Autumn, sick to death With allow Quartans, no contagion breathes.
I IN prophetic numbers could unfold The omens of the year: what seasons teem With what diseases; what the humid SouthLine 495 Prepares, and what the Daemon of the ast.

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But you perhaps refuse the tedious song. Besides, whatever plagues in heat, or cold, Or drought, or moisture dwell, they hurt not you. Skill'd to correct the vices of the sky,Line 500 And taught already how to each extream To bend your life. But should the public bane Infect you, or some trespass of your own, Or flaw of nature hint mortality: Soon as a not unpleasing horror glidesLine 505 Along the spine, thro' all your torpid limbs; When first the head throbs, or the stomach feels A sickly load, a weary pain the loins; Be Celsus call'd: the fates come rushing on; The rapid fates admit of no delay.Line 510 While wilful you, and fatally secure, Expect to morrow's more auspicious sun, The growing pest, whose infancy was weak And easy vanquish'd, with triumphant sway O'erpowers your life. For want of timely careLine 515 Millions have died of medicable wounds.
AH! in what perils is vain life engag'd! What slight neglects, what trivial faults destroy The hardiest frame! Of indolence, of toil, We die; of want, of superfluity.Line 520 The all-surrounding heaven, the vital air, Is big with death. And, tho' the putrid South Be shut; tho' no convulsive agony Shake, from the deep foundations of the world, Line 525

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Th' imprisoned plagues; a secret venom oftLine 525 Corrupts the air, the water, and the land. What livid deaths has sad Byzantium seen! How oft has Cairo, with a mother's woe. Wept o'er her slaughter'd sons, and lonely streets▪ Even Albion, girt with less malignant skies,Line 330 Albion the poison of the Gods has drunk, And felt the sting of monsters all her own.
ERE yet the fell Plantagenets had spent Their ancient rage, at Bosworth's purple field; While for which tyrant England should receiveLine 535 Her legions in incestuous murders mix'd, And daily horrors; till the fates were drunk With kindred blood by kindred hands profus'd: Another plague of more gigantic arm Arose, a monster never known before,Line 540 Rear'd from Cocytus its portentous head. This rapid fury not, like other pests, Pursu'd a gradual course, but in a day Rush'd as a storm o'er half th' astonish'd isle, And strew'd with sudden carcases the land.Line 545
FIRST thro' the shoulders, or whatever part Was seiz'd the first, a fervid vapour sprung. With rash combustion thence, the quivering spark Shot to the heart, and kindled all within; And soon the surface caught the spreading fires.Line 550 Thro' all the yielding pores the melted blood

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Gush'd out in smoaky sweats; but nought assuag'd The torrid heat within, nor aught reliev'd The stomach's anguish. With incessant toil, Desperate of ease, impatient of their pain, They toss'd from side to side. In vain the stream Ran full and clear, they burnt and thirsted still. The restless arteries with rapid blood Beat strong and frequent. Thick and pantingly The breath was fetch'd, and with huge lab'rings heav'd.Line 560 At last a heavy pain oppress'd the head, A wild delirium came; their weeping friends Were strangers now, and this no home of theirs. Harass'd with toil on toil, the sinking powers Lay prostrate and o'erthrown; a ponderous sleepLine 565 Wrapt all the senses up: they slept and died.
IN some a gentle horror crept at first O'er all the limbs; the sluices of the skin Withheld their moisture, till by art provok'd The sweats o'erflow'd; but in a clammy tide:Line 570 Now free and copious, now restrain'd and slow; Of tinctures various, as the temperature Had mix'd the blood; and rank with fetid steams: As if the pent-up humors by delay Were grown more fell, more putrid, and malign,Line 575 Here lay their hopes (tho' little hope remain'd) With full effusion of perpetual sweats To drive the venom out. And here the fates Were kind, that long they linger'd not in pain. For who surviv'd the sun's diurnal race,Line 580

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Rose from the dreary gates of hell redeem'd: Some the sixth hour oppress'd, and some the third.
OF many thousands few untainted 'scap'd; Of those infected fewer 'scap'd alive: Of those who liv'd some felt a second blow;Line 585 And whom the second spar'd a third destroy'd. Frantic with fear, they sought by flight to shun The fierce contagion. O'er the mournful land Th' infected city pour'd her hurrying swarms: Rous'd by the flames that fir'd her ••••ats around,Line 590 Th' infected country rush'd into the town. Some, sad at home, and in the desart some. Abjur'd the fatal commerce of mankind; In vain: where'er they fled the Fates pursu'd. Others with hopes more specious, cross'd the main,Line 595 To seek protection in far-distant skies; But none they found. It seem'd the general air Was then at enmity with English blood. For, but the race of England, all were safe In foreign climes; nor did this fury tasteLine 600 The foreign blood which Albion then contain'd. Where should they fly? The circumambient heaven Involv'd them still, and every breeze was bane. Where find relief? The salutary art Was mute; and, startled at the new disease,Line 605 In fearful whispers hopeless omens gave. To heaven with suppliant rites they sent their pray'rs,

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Heav'n heard them not. Of every hope depriv'd; Fatigu'd with vain resources; and subdu'd With woes resistless and enfeebling fear;Line 610 Passive they sunk beneath the weighty blow. Nothing but lamentable sounds was heard, Nor ought was seen but ghastly views of death; Infectious horror ran from face to face, And pale despair. 'Twas all the business thenLine 615 To tend the sick, and in their turns to die. In heaps they fell: and oft one bed, they say, The sickening, dying, and the dead contain'd.
YE guardian Gods, on whom the Fates depend Of tottering Albion! Ye eternal fires,Line 620 That lead thro heav'n the wandering year! Ye pow'rs That o'er th' incircling elements preside! May nothing worse than what this age has seen Arrive! Enough abroad, enough at home Has Albion bled. Here a distemper'd heavenLine 625 Has thin'd her cities; from those lofty cliffs That awe proud Gaul, to Thule's wint'ry reign; While in the West, beyond th' Atlantic foam, Her bravest sons, keen for the fight, have died The death of cowards, and of common men;Line 630 Sunk void of wounds, and fall'n without renown.
BUT from these views the weeping Muses turn, And other themes invite my wandering song.

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THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH. BOOK IV. The PASSIONS.

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THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH. BOOK IV. The PASSIONS.

THE choice of aliment, the choice of air, The use of toil, and all external things, Already sung; it now remains to trace What good what evil from ourselves proceeds: And how the subtle principle withinLine 5 Inspires with health, or mines with strange decay The passive body. Ye poetic Shades, That know the secrets of the world unseen, Assist my song! For, in a doubtful theme Engag'd, I wander thro' mysterious ways.Line 10
THERE is, they say (and I believe there is) A spark within us of th' immortal fire,

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That animates and moulds the grosser frame; And when the body sinks, escapes to heaven, Its native seat; and mixes with the Gods.Line 15 Mean while this heavenly particle pervades The mortal elements, in every nerve It thrills with pleasure, or grows mad with pain. And, in its secret conclave, as it feels The body's woes and joys, this ruling powerLine 20 Weilds at its will the dull material world, And is the body's health or malady.
BY its own toil the gross corporeal frame Fatigues, extenuates, or destroys itself: Nor less the labours of the mind corrodeLine 25 The solid fabric. For by subtle parts, And viewless atoms, secret Nature moves The mighty wheels of this stupendous world. By subtle fluids pour'd thro' subtle tubes The natural, vital functions, are perform'd.Line 30 By these the stubborn aliments are tam'd; The toiling heart distributes life and strength; These the still-crumbling frame rebuild; and these Are lost in thinking, and dissolve in air.
BUT 'tis not Thought (for still the soul's employ'd)Line 35 'Tis painful thinking that corrodes our clay. All day the vacant eye without fatigue Strays o'er the heaven and earth; but long intent

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On microscopic arts its vigour fails. Just so the mind, with various thoughts amus'd,Line 40 Nor aches itself, nor gives the body pain. But anxious Study, Discontent, and Care, Love without Hope, and Hate without revenge, And Fear, and Jealousy, fatigue the soul, Engross the subtle ministers of life,Line 45 And spoil the lab'ring functions of their share. Hence the lean gloom that Melancholy wears; The Lover's paleness; and the sallow hue Of Envy, Jealousy; the meagre stare Of sore Revenge: the canker'd body henceLine 50 Betrays each fretful motion of the mind.
THE strong-built pedant; who both night and day Feeds on the coarsest fare the schools bestow, And crudely fattens at gross Burman's stall; O'erwhelm'd with phlegm lies in a dropsy drown'd,Line 55 Or sinks in lethargy before his time. With useful studies you, and arts that please, Employ your mind, amuse, but not fatigue. Peace to each drowsy metaphysic sage! And ever may the German folio's rest!Line 60 And some there are, even of elastic parts, Whom strong and obstinate ambition leads Thro' all the rugged roads of barren lore, And gives to relish what their generous taste Would else refuse. But may nor thirst of fame,Line 65

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Nor love of knowledge urge you to fatigue With constant drudgery the liberal soul. Toy with your books: and, as the various fits Of humour seize you, from Philosophy To Fable shift; from serious AntonineLine 70 To Rabelais' ravings, and from prose to song.
WHILE reading pleases, but no longer, read; And read aloud, resounding Horner's strain, And weild the thunder of Demosthenes. The chest so exercis'd improves its strength;Line 75 And quick vibrations thro' the bowels drive The restless blood, which in unactive days Would loiter else thro' unelastic tubes. Deem it not trifling while I recommend What posture suits: to stand and sit by turns,Line 80 As nature prompts, is best. But o'er your leaves To lean for ever, cramps the vital parts, And robs the fine machinery of its play.
'Tis the great art of life to manage well The restless mind. For ever on pursuitLine 85 Of knowledge bent it starves the grosser powers. Quite unemploy'd, against its own repose It turns its fatal edge, and sharper pangs Than what the body knows imbitter life. Chiefly where Solitude, sad nurse of care,Line 90 To sickly musing gives the pensive mind.

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There madness enters; and the dim-ey'd Fiend, Sour Melancholy, night and day provokes Her own eternal wound. The sun grows pale; A mournful visionary light o'erspreadsLine 95 The chearful face of nature: earth becomes A dreary desart, and heaven frowns above. Then various shapes of curs'd illusion rise; Whate'er the wretched fears, creating Fear Forms out of nothing; and with monsters teemsLine 100 Unknown in hell. The prostrate soul beneath A load of huge imagination heaves. And all the horrors that the guilty feel, With anxious flutterings wake the guiltless breast.
SUCH phantoms Pride in solitary scenes,Line 105 Or Fear, on delicate Self-love creates. From other cares absolv'd, the busy mind Finds in yourself a theme to pore upon; It finds you miserable, or makes you so. For while yourself you anxiously explore,Line 110 Timorous Self-love, with sick'ning Fancy's aid, Presents the danger that you dread the most, And ever galls you in your tender part. Hence some for love, and some for jealousy, For grim religion some, and some for pride,Line 115 Have lost their reason: some for fear of want Want all their lives; and others every day For fear of dying suffer worse than death.

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Ah! from your bosoms banish, if you can, Those fatal guests: and first the Daemon Fear;Line 120 That trembles at impossible events, Lest aged Atlas should resign his load, And heav'n's eternal battlements rush down, Is there an evil worse than fear itself? And what avails it that indulgent heavenLine 125 From mortal eyes has wrapt the woes to come, If we, ingenious to torment ourselves, Grow pale at hideous fictions of our own? Enjoy the present; nor with needless cares, Of what may spring from blind Misfortune's womb,Line 130 Appal the surest hour that life bestows. Serene, and master of yourself, prepare For what may come; and leave the rest to heaven.
OFT from the body, by long ails mistun'd, These evils sprung the most important health,Line 135 That of the mind, destroy: and when the mind They first invade, the conscious body soon In sympathetic languishment declines. These chronic passions, while from real woes They rise, and yet without the body's faultLine 140 Infest the soul, admit one only cure; Diversion, hurry, and a restless life. Vain are the consolations of the wise, In vain your friends would reason down your pain. Oh ye whose souls relentless love has tam'dLine 145

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To soft distress, or friends untimely slain! Court not the luxury of tender thought: Nor deem it impious to forget those pains That hurt the living, nought avail the dead. Go, soft enthusiast! quit the cypress groves,Line 150 Nor to the rivulet's lonely moanings tune Your sad complaint. Go, seek the chearful haunts Of men, and mingle with the bustling croud; Lay schemes for wealth, or power, or fame, the wish Of nobler minds, and push them night and day.Line 155 Or join the caravan in quest of scenes New to your eyes, and shifting every hour; Beyond the Alps, beyond the Appennines. Or, more advent'rous, rush into the field Where war grows hot; and, raging thro' the sky,Line 160 The lofty trumpet swells the maddening soul: And in the hardy camp and toilsome march Forget all softer and less manly cares.
BUT most too passive, when the blood runs low, Too weakly indolent to strive with pain,Line 165 And bravely oy resisting conquer Fate, Try Circe's arts; and in the tempting bowl Of poison'd Nectar sweet oblivion drink. Struck by the powerful charm, the gloom dissolves In empty air; Elysium opens round.Line 170 A pleasing phrenzy buoys the lighten'd soul, And sanguine hopes dispel your fleeting care;

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And what was difficult, and what was dire, Yields to your prowess and superior stars: The happiest you of all that e'er were mad,Line 175 Or are, or shall be, could this folly last. But soon your heaven is gone; a heavier gloom Shuts o'er your head: and, as the thundering stream, Swoln o'er its banks with sudden mountain rain, Sinks from its tumult to a silent brook;Line 180 So, when the frantic raptures in your breast Subside, you languish into mortal man; You sleep, and waking find yourself undone. For, prodigal of life, in one rash night You lavish'd more than might support three daysLine 185 A heavy morning comes; your cares return With ten-fold rage. An anxious stomach well May be endur'd; so may the throbbing head: But such a dim delirium, such a dream, Involves you; such a dastardly despairLine 190 Unmans your soul, as madd'ning Pentheus felt When, baited round Citheron's cruel sides, He saw two suns, and double Thebes ascend: You curse the sluggish Port; you curse the wretch. The felon, with unnatural mixture firstLine 195 Who dar'd to violate the virgin Wine. Or on the fugitive Champain you pour A thousand curses; for to heaven your soul It rapt, to plunge you deeper in despair. Perhaps you rue even that divinest gift,Line 200

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The gay, serene, good-natur'd Burgundy, Or the fresh fragrant vintage of the Rhine: And wish that heaven from mortals had withheld The grape, and all intoxicating bowls.
BESIDES, it wounds you sore to recollectLine 205 What follies in your loose unguarded hour Escap'd. By one irrevocable word, Perhaps that meant no harm, you lose a friend. Or in the rage of wine your hasty hand Performs a deed to haunt you to your grave.Line 210 Add that your means, your health, your parts decay; Your friends avoid you; brutishly transform'd They hardly know you; or if one remains To wish you well, he wishes you in heaven. Despis'd, unwept you fall; who might have leftLine 215 A sacred, cherish'd, sadly-pleasing name; A name still to be utter'd with a sigh. Your last ungraceful scene has quite effac'd All sense and memory of your former worth?
How to live happiest; how avoid the pains,Line 220 The Disappointments, and disgusts of those Who would in pleasure all their hours employ; The precepts here of a divine old man I could recite. Tho' old, he still retain'd His manly sense, and energy of mind.Line 225 Virtuous and wise he was, but not severe;

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He still remember'd that he once was young; His easy presence check'd no decent joy. Him even the dissolute admir'd; for he A graceful looseness when he pleas'd put on,Line 230 And laughing could instruct. Much had he read, Much more had seen; he studied from the life, And in th' original perus'd mankind.
VERS'D in the woes and vanities of life, He pitied man: and much he pitied thoseLine 235 Whom falsely-smiling fate has curs'd with means To dissipate their days in quest of joy. Our aim is Happiness; 'tis yours, 'tis mine, He said, 'tis the pursuit of all that live; Yet few attain it, if 'twas e'er attain'd.Line 240 But they the widest wander from the mark, Who thro' the flow'ry paths of saunt'ring joy Seek this coy Goddess; that from stage of stage Invites us still, but shifts as we pursue. For not to name the pains that pleasure bringsLine 245 To counterpoise itself, relentless Fate Forbids that we thro' gay voluptuous wilds Should ever roam: and were the Fates more kind, Our narrow luxuries would soon be stale. Were these exhaustless, Nature would grow sick,Line 250 And, cloy'd with pleasure, squeamishly complain That all was vanity, and life a dream. Let nature rest: be busy for yourself,

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And for your friend; be busy even in vain Rather than teize her sated appetites.Line 255 Who never fasts no banquet e'er enjoys; Who never toils or watches never sleeps. Let nature rest: and when the taste of joy Grows keen, indulge; but shun satiety.
'TIS not for mortals always to be blest.Line 260 But him the least the dull or painful hours Of life oppress, whom sober Sense conducts And Virtue, thro' this labyrinth we tread. Virtue and Sense I mean not to disjoin: Virtue and Sense are one; and, trust me, heLine 265 Who has not virtue, is not truly wise. Virtue (for meer good-nature is a fool) Is sense and spirit, with humanity: 'Tis sometimes angry, and its frown confounds: 'Tis even vindictive, but in vengeance just.Line 270 Knaves fain would laugh at it; some great ones dare; But at his heart the most undaunted son Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms. To noblest uses this determines wealth; This is the solid pomp of prosperous days;Line 275 The peace and shelter of adversity. And if you pant for glory, build your fame On this foundation, which the secret shock Defies of Envy and all-sapping Time. The gawdy gloss of Fortune only strikes

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The vulgar eye: the suffrage of the wise, The praise that's worth ambition, is attain'dLine 280 By Sense alone, and dignity of mind.
VIRTUE, the strength and beauty of the soul, Is the best gift of heaven: a happiness That even above the smiles and frowns of fate Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealthLine 285 That ne'er incumbers, nor to baser hands Can be transferr'd: it is the only good Man justly boasts of, or can call his own. Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd; Or dealt by chance, to shield a lucky knave,Line 290 Or throw a cruel sun-shine on a fool. But for one end, one much-neglected use, Are riches worth your care: (for Nature's wants Are few, and without opulence supplied.) This noble end is, to produce the Soul;Line 295 To shew the virtues in their fairest light; To make Humanity the Minister Of bounteous Providence; and teach the Br••••st That generous luxury the Gods enjoy.
THUS, in his graver vein, the friendly SageLine 300 Sometimes declaim'd. Of Right and Wrong he taught Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard; And strange to tell▪) he practis'd what he preach'd. Skill'd in the Passions, how to check their sway Line 305

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He knew, as far as Reason can controulLine 305 The lawless Powers. But other cares are mine: Form'd in the school of Paeon, I relate What Passions hurt the body, what improve: Avoid them, or invite them, as you may.
KNOW then, whatever chearful and sereneLine 310 Supports the mind, supports the body too. Hence the most vital movement mortals feel Is Hope; the balm and life-blood of the soul. It pleases, and it lasts. Indulgent heaven Sent down the kind delusion, thro' the pathsLine 315 Of rugged life; to lead us patient on; And make our happiest state no tedious thing. Our greatest good, and what we least can spare, Is Hope; the last of all our evils, Fear.
BUT there are Passions grateful to the breast,Line 320 And yet no friends to Life; perhaps they please Or to excess, and dissipate the soul; Or while they please, torment. The stubborn clown, The ill-tam'd Russian, and pale Usurer, (If Love's omnipotence such hearts can mould)Line 325 May safely mellow into love; and grow Refin'd, humane, and generous, if they can Love in such bosoms never to a fault Or pains or pleases. But ye finer Souls, Form'd to soft luxury, and prompt to thrillLine 330

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With all the tumults, all the joys and pains, That beauty gives; with caution and reserve Indulge the sweet destroyer of repose, Nor court too much the Queen of charming cares. For, while the cherish'd poison in your breastLine 335 Ferments and maddens; sick with jealousy, Absence, distrust, or even with anxious joy, The wholsome appetites and powers of life Dissolve in languor. The coy stomach loaths The genial board: your chearful days are gone:Line 340 The generous bloom that flush'd your cheeks is fled. To sighs devoted, and to tender pains. Pensive you sit, or solitary stray, And waste your youth in musing. Musing first Toy'd into care your unsuspecting heart:Line 345 It found a liking there, a sportful fire, And that fomented into serious love; Which musing daily strengthens and improves Thro' all the heights of fondness and romance: And you're undone, the fatal shaft has sped,Line 350 If once you doubt whether you love or no. The body wastes away; th' infected mind, Dissolv'd in female tenderness, forgets Each manly virtue, and grows dead to fame. Sweet heaven, from such intoxicating charms,Line 355 Defend all worthy breasts! Not that I deem Love always dangerous, always to be shunn'd. Love well repaid, and not too weakly sunk

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In wanton and unmanly tenderness, Adds blooom to Health; o'er every virtue shedsLine 360 A gay, humane, and amiable grace, And brightens all the ornaments of man. But fruitless, hopeless, disappointed, rack'd With jealousy, fatigu'd with hope and fear, Too serious, or too languishingly fond,Line 365 Unnerves the body, and unmans the soul. And some have died for Love; and some run mad And some with desperate hand themselves have slain.
SOME to extinguish, others to prevent, A mad devotion to one dangerous Fair,Line 370 Court all they meet; in hopes to dissipate The cares of Love amongst a hundred Brides. Th' event is doubtful: for there are who find A cure in this; there are who find it not. 'Tis no relief, alas! it rather gallsLine 375 The wound, to those who are sincerely sick. For while from feverish and tumultuous joys The nerves grow languid, and the soul subsides; The tender Fancy smarts with every sting; And what was Love before is Madness now.Line 380 Is health your care, or luxury your aim, Be temperate still: when Nature bi••••, obey; Her wild impatient allies bear no curb. But when the prurient habit of delight. Or loose imagination, spurs you onLine 385

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To deeds above your strength, impute it not To Nature: Nature all compulsion hates. Ah' let nor luxury nor vain renown Urge you to feats you well might sleep without; To make what should be rapture a fatigue,Line 390 A tedious task; nor in the wanton arms Of twining Laïs melt your manhood down. For from the colliquation of soft joys How chang'd you rise! the ghost of what you was! Languid, and melancholy, and gaunt, and wan;Line 395 Your veins exhausted, and your nerves unstrung. Spoil'd of its balm and sprightly zest, the blood Grows vapid phlegm; along the tender nerves (To each slight impulse tremblingly awake) A subtle Fiend that mimics all the plagues,Line 400 Rapid and restless, springs from part to part. The blooming honours of your youth are fallen; Your vigour pines; your vital powers decay; Diseases haunt you; and untimely Age Creeps on; unsocial, impotent, and lewd.Line 405 Infatuate, impious epicure! to waste The stores of pleasure, chearfulness, and health! Infatuate all who make delight their trade, And coy perdition every hour pursue.
WHO pines with Love, or in lascivious flamesLine 410 Consumes, is with his own consent undone: He chuses to be wretched, to be mad;

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And warn'd proceeds and wilful to his fate. But there's a Passion, whose tempestuous sway Tears up each virtue planted in the breast,Line 415 And shakes to ruins proud philosophy. For pale and trembling Anger rushes in, With fault'ring speech, and eyes that wildly stare: Fierce as the Tyger, madder than the seas, Desperate, and arm'd with more than human strength.Line 420 How soon the calm, huma•••• and polish'd man, Forgets compunction, and starts up a fiend! Who pines in Love, or wastes with silent Cares, Envy, or Ignominy, or tender Grief, Slowly descends, and ling'ring to the shades.Line 425 But he whom Anger stings, drops, if he dies, At once, and rushes apoplectic down; Or a fierce fever hurries him to hell. For, as the Body thro' unnumber'd strings Reverberates each vibration of the Soul;Line 430 As is the Passion, such is still the Pain The Body feels; or chronic, or acute. And oft a sudden storm at once o'erpowers The Life, or gives your Reason to the winds. Such fates attend the rash alarm of Fear,Line 435 And sudden Grief, and Rage, and sudden Joy.
THERE are, mean time, to whom the boist'rous fit Is health, and only fills the sails of life. For where the Mind a torpid winter leads, Line 440

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Wrapt in a body corpulent and cold,Line 440 And each clogg'd function lazily moves on; A generous sally spurns th' incumbent load, Unlocks the breast, and gives a cordial glow. But if your wrathful blood is apt to boil, Or are you nerves too irritably strung;Line 445 Wave all Dispute; be cautious if 〈◊〉〈◊〉 joke; Keep Lent for ever; and forswear the bowl. For one rash 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sends you to the shades, Or shatters every hopeful scheme of life, And gives to horror all your days to come.Line 450 Fate, arm'd with thunder, fire, and every plague That ruins, tortures, or distracts mankind, And makes the happy wretched in an hour, O'erwhelms you not with woes so horrible As your own wrath, nor gives more sudden blows.Line 455
WHILE choler works, good friend, you may be wrong; Distrust yourself, and sleep before you fight. 'Tis not too late to morrow to be brave; If Honour bids, to morrow kill or die. But calm advice against a raging fitLine 460 Avails too little; and it tries the power Of all that ever taught in Prose or Song, To tame the Fiend that steeps a gentle Lamb, And wakes a Lion. Unprovok'd and calm, You reason well, see as you ought to see▪Line 465

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And wonder at the madness of mankind: Seiz'd with the common rage, you soon forget The speculations of your wi•••• hours. Beset with Furies of all deadly shapes, Fierce and insidious, violent and slow;Line 470 With all that urge or lure us on to Fate; What refuge shall we seek? what arms prepare? Where Reason proves too w••••k or void of wiles, To cope with subtle or im〈7 letters〉〈7 letters〉 Powers, I would invoke new Passions to your aid:Line 475 With indignation would extinguish Fear, With Fear or generous Pity vanquish Rage, And Love with Pride; and force to force oppose.
THERE is a Charm: a Power that sways the breast; Bids every Passion revel or be still;Line 480 Inspires with Rage, or all your Cares dissolves; Can sooth Distraction, and almost Despair. That Power is Music: far beyond the stretch Of those unmeaning warblers on our stage; Those clumsy Heroes, those sat-headed Gods.Line 485 Who move no Passion justly but Contempt: Who, like our Dancers (light indeed and strong!) Do wond'rous feats, but never heard of grace. The fault is ours; we bear those monstrous arts. Good Heaven we praise them: we, with loudest peals,Line 490 Applaud the fool that highest lifts his heels; And with insipid shew of rapture, die

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Of ideot notes, impertinently long. But he the Muse's laurel justly shares, A Poet he, and touch'd with Heaven's own fire;Line 495 Who, with bold rage or solemn pomp of sounds, Inflames, exalts, and ravishes the soul▪ Now tender, plaintive, sweet almost to pain, In Love dissolves you; now in sprightly strains Breathes a gay ••••••ure thro' your thrilling breast;Line 500 Or melts th 〈…〉〈…〉 with airs divinely sad, Or wakes to horror the tremendous strings. Such was the bard, whose heavenly strains of old Appeas'd the Fiend of melancholy Saul. Such was, if old and hathen fame say true.Line 505 The man who bade the Theban domes ascend, And tam'd the savage nations with his song; And such the Thracian, whose harmonious lyre, Tun'd to soft woe, made all the mountains weep: Sooth'd even th' inexorable powers of Hell.Line 510 And half redeem'd his lost Eurydice. Music exalts each Joy, allays each Grief, Expels Diseases, softens every Pain, Subdues the rage of Poison, and the Plague; And hence the wise of ancient days ador'dLine 515 One Power of Physic, Melody, and Song.
The END.

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Notes

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