When Epicurus to the world had taught,

That pleasure was the chiefest good,

(And was perhaps i' th' right, if rightly understood,) His life he to his doctrine brought,

And in a garden's shade that sov'reign pleasure sought:

Whoever a true epicure would be,

May there find cheap and virtuous luxury.
Vitellius's table, which did hold

As

many creatures as the ark of old,
That fiscal table, to which ev'ry day
All countries did a constant tribute pay,
Could nothing more delicious afford
Than nature's liberality,

Help'd with a little art and industry,

Allows the meanest gard'ner's board.
The wanton taste no fish or fowl can choose,
For which the grape or melon he would lose,
Though all the inhabitants of sea and air
Be listed in the glutton's bill of fare;

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

But with no sense the garden does comply, None courts, or flatters, as it does, the eye: When the great Hebrew king did almost strain The wondrous treasures of his wealth and brain, His royal southern guest to entertain;

Though she on silver floors did tread,"
With bright Assyrian carpets on them spread,
To hide the metal's poverty;

Though she look'd up to roofs of gold,
And nought around her could behold
But silk and rich embroidery,

And Babylonian tapestry,

And wealthy Hiram's princely dye:

Though Ophir's starry stones met ev'rywhere her

eye;

Though she herself, and her gay host, were dress'd
With all the shining glories of the East;
When lavish art her costly work had done,
The honour and the prize of bravery
Was by the garden from the palace won;
And ev'ry rose and lily there did stand,
Better attir'd by Nature's hand:

The case thus judg'd against the king we see,
By one that would not be so rich, though wiser
far than he.

Nor does this happy place only dispense
Such various pleasures to the sense;
Here health itself does live,

That salt of life, which does to all a relish give;
Its standing pleasure, and intrinsic wealth,

The body's virtue, and the soul's good fortunehealth,

The tree of life, when it in Eden stood,

Did its immortal head to heaven rear,

It lasted a tall cedar till the flood;

Now a small thorny shrub it does appear,
Nor will it thrive too everywhere:

It always here is freshest seen,

'Tis only here an evergreen.

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

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

They must not think here to assail

A land unarmed, or without a guard;
They must fight for it, and dispute it hard,

Before they can prevail :

Scarce any plant is growing here,

Which against death some weapon does not bear.

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

Than when we with attention look
Upon the third day's volume of the book?
If we could open and intend our eye,
We all, like Moses, should espy
Ev'n in a bush the radiant Deity.
But we despise these his inferior ways,
(Though no less full of miracle and praise,)
Upon the flow'rs of heaven we gaze;
The stars of earth no wonder in us raise.
Though these perhaps do, more than they,
The life of mankind sway.

Although no part of mighty nature be
More stor❜d with beauty, pow'r, and mystery;
Yet, to encourage human industry,
God has so order'd that no other part
Such space, and such dominion leaves for art.

We nowhere art do so triumphant see,

As when it grafts or buds the tree :
In other things we count it to excel,
If it a docile scholar can appear
To nature, and but imitate her well:
It overrules, and is her master here.

It imitates her Maker's power divine,

And changes her sometimes, and sometimes does

refine;

It does, like grace, the fallen tree restore

To its blessed state of paradise before:
Who would not joy to see his conqu'ring hand
O'er all the vegetable world command?
And the wild giants of the wood receive
What law he's pleas'd to give?

Methinks I see great Diocletian walk
In the Salonian garden's noble shade,
Which by his own imperial hands was made:
I see him smile (methinks) as he does talk
With the ambassadors, who came in vain
To entice him to a throne again.

"If I, my friends," (said he,) "should to you show
All the delights which in these gardens grow;
'Tis likelier much that you should with me stay,
Than 'tis that you should carry me away:

And trust me not, my friends, if ev'ry day
I walk not here with more delight,

Than ever, after the most happy fight,
In triumph, to the capitol, I rode,

To thank the gods, and to be thought, myself almost a god."

VANITY OF RICHES.

WHY dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit,

Or, what is worse, be left by it?

Why dost thou load thyself, when thou'rt to fly, Oh man ordain'd to die?

Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high,
Thou who art underground to lie?

X

Thou sow'st and plantest, but no fruit must see, For death, alas! is sowing thee.

Thou dost thyself wise and industrious deem;
A mighty husband' thou wouldst seem;
Fond man! like a bought slave, thou all the while
Dost but for others sweat and toil.

Officious fool! thou needs must meddling be
In business that concerns not thee!

For when to future years thou extend'st thy cares,
Thou deal'st in other men's affairs.

Ev'n aged men, as if they truly were
Children again, for age prepare;
Provisions for long travel they design,

In the last point of their short line.

Wisely the ant against poor winter hoards

The stock which summer's wealth affords; In grasshoppers, which must in autumn die, How vain were such an industry!

Of pow'r and honour the deceitful light

Might half excuse our cheated sight,
If it of life the whole small time would stay,
And be our sunshine all the day;-

Like lightning that, begot but in a cloud, (Though shining bright, and speaking loud,) Whilst it begins, concludes its violent race,

And where it gilds, it wounds the place.

Oh scene of fortune, which dost fair appear
Only to men that stand not near!
A great economist.