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 Babylonish tapestry,

And wealthy Hiram's princely dye;

Though Ophir's starry stones met every-where her

eye;

Though she herself and her gay host were drest

With all the shining glories of the East;

When lavish art her costly work had done,
The honour and the prize of bravery

Was by the garden from the palace won;
And every rose and lily there did stand
Better attir'd by nature's hand *.

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

* Matth. vi. 29.

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 intrinsick wealth,
The body's virtue, and the soul's good-fortune,
health.

The tree of life, when it in Eden stood,

Did its immortal head to heaven rear ;
It lasted a tall cedar, till the flood;
Now a small thorny shrub it does appear;
Nor will it thrive too every-where:

It always here is freshest seen;
"T is only here an ever-green.

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

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

They must not think here to assail

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

Scarce any plant is growing here,

Which against death some weapon does not bear.
Let cities boast that they provide

For life the ornaments of pride;
But 't is the country and the field,
That furnish it with staff and shield.

Where does the wisdom and the power divine
In a more bright and sweet reflection shine?

Where do we finer strokes and colours see
Of the Creator's real poetry,

Than when we with attention look
Upon the third day's 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 flowers 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, power, 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 no-where 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 over-rules, and is her master, here.

It imitates her Maker's power divine,

[fine:

And changes her sometimes, and sometimes does re

It does, like grace, the fallen tree restore

To its bless'd state of Paradise before:

Who would not joy to see his conquering hand
O'er all the vegetable world command ?

And the wild giants of the wood receive
What law he's pleas'd to give?

He bids th' ill-natur'd crab produce
The gentler apple's winy juice;

The golden fruit, that worthy is
Of Galatea's purple kiss:

He does the savage hawthorn teach

To bear the medlar and the

pear:
He bids the rustick plum to rear
A noble trunk, and be a peach.
Ev'n Daphne's coyness he does mock,
And weds the cherry to her stock,
Though she refus'd Apollo's suit;
Ev'n she, that chaste and virgin tree,

Now wonders at herself, to see

That she's a mother made, and blushes in her fruit.

Methinks, I see great Dioclesian 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 come in vain
T'entice him to a throne again.

If I, my friends (said he), should to you show
All the delights which in these gardens grow,
'T is likelier much, that you should with me stay,
Than 't is, that you should carry me away:
And trust me not, my friends, if, every 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.

VI.

OF GREATNESS.

SINCE we cannot attain to greatness (says the sieur de Montaigne), let us have our revenge by railing at it:" this he spoke but in jest. I believe he desired it no more than I do, and had less reason; for he enjoyed so plentiful and honourable a fortune in a most excellent country, as allowed him all the real conveniencies of it, separated and purged from the incommodities. If I were but in his condition, I should think it hard measure, without being convinced of any crime, to be sequestered from it, and made one of the principal officers of state. But the reader may think that what I now say is of small authority, because I never was, nor ever shall be, put to the trial: I can therefore only make my protestation,