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For fragrance vies ; for in the thirsty soil
Most fragrant breathe the aromatic tribes.
There bid thy roofs high on the basking steep
Ascend, there light thy hospitable fires.
And let them see the winter morn arise,
The summer evening blushing in the west ;
While with umbrageous oaks the ridge behind
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 sounding forest fluctuates in the storm ; To sink in warm repose, and hear the din
290 Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights Above the luxury of common sleep. The murmuring rivulet, and the hoarser strain Of waters rushing o'er the slippery rocks, Will nightly lull you to ambrosial rest.
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 the harmonious frame. Besides, the sportive brook forever shakes
300 The trembling air ; that foats from hill to hill, From vale to mountain, with incessant change Of purest element, refreshing still Your airy seat, and uninfected Gods. Chiefly for this I praise the man who builds
S05 High on the breezy ridge, whose lofty sides Th' etherial deep with endless billows chạfes. His purer mansion nor contagious years Shall reach, nor deadly putrid airs annoy. But may no fogs, froni lake or fenny plain,
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 wintry winds assail'd ; Dry be your house : but airy more than warm.
315 Else every breath of ruder wind will strike Your tender body thro' with rapid pains ; Fierce coughs will teize you, hoarsness bind your voice, Or moist Gravado load your aching brows. These to defy, and all the fates that dwell
320 In cloister'd air, tainted with streaming lise, Let lofty ceilings grace your ample rooms i And still at azure noontide may you dome At every window drink the liquid sky.
Need we the sunny situation here,
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 heap
Of mountains, never felt, nor ever hope
To feel, the genial vigor of the sun !
While on the neighbouring hill the rose inflames
The verdant spring ; in virgin beauty blows
The tender lily, languishingly sweet ;
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 gen'rous heat
Glows thro'the mass of grosser eļements,
And kindles into life the ponderous spheres.
Cheer'd by thy kind, invigorating warmth,
We court thy beams, great majesty of day!
If not the soul, the regent of this world,
First-born of heaven, and only less than God!
NOUGH of Air. A desart subject now,
kougher and wilder, rises to my sight;
A barren waste, where not a garland grows
To bind the Muse's brow ; not ev'n a proud,
Stupendous solicitude frowns o'er the heath,
To rouse a noble horror in the soul :
But rugged paths fatigue, and error leads
Through endless labyrinths the devious feet.
Farewell, ethereal fields! the humbler arts
Of life ; the table of the homely Gods
Demand my song. Elysian gales adieu !
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,
This vital fluid, through 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 thin
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 tide
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.
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,
Subdue the cruder aliments to chyle ;
The chyle to blood ; the foamy purple tide
To liquors, which, through finer arteries,
To different parts their winding course pursue ;
To try new changes, and new forms put on,
Or for the public, or some private use.
Nothing so foreign but the athletic hind
Can labour into blood. The hungry meal
Alone he fears, or aliments too thin ;
By violent powers too easily subdu’d,
Too soon expelld. 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 paste
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 age
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 mass
Relents; and soon the young of those that tread
The steadfast earth, or cleave the green abyss,
Or pathless sky. And if the steer must fall,
In youth and sanguine vigour let him die ;
Nor stay till rigid age, or heavy ails,
Absolve him, ill requited, from the yoke.
Some with high forage, and luxurient ease,
Indulge the veteran ox; but wiser thou,
From che bald nountain or the barren downs,
Expect the flocks by frugal nature fed ;
A race of purer blood, with exercise
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 wholesome food, the abominable growth
Of rest and gluttony; the prudent taste
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 feetle tone ; and with the eager lymph
(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 foods
Of rancid bile o'erflows : what tumults hence,
What horrors rise, were nauseous to relate,
Choose leaner viands, ye whose jovial make
Too fast the gummy nutriment imbibes :
Choose sober meals: and rouse to active life
Your cumbrous clay ; nor on th’ infeebling down,
Irresolute, pirotract the morning hours.
But let the man whose bones are thinly clad,
With cheerful ease and succulent repast
Improve his slender habit. Each extreme
From the blest mean of sanity departs..
I could relate what table ihis demands,
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,
Felt in the pulse, nor in the habit seen ;
Which finds a poison in the food, that most
The temp'rature affe&l., There are, whose blood
Impetuous rages through the turgid veins,
Who better bear the fiery fruits of Ind,
Than the moist Melon, or pale Cucumber.
Of chilly nature others fly the board
Supply'd with slaughter; and the vernal powers,
For cooler, kinder, sustenance implore.
Some even the generous nutriment detest
Which, in the shell, the sleeping embroy rears.
Some, more unhappy still, repent the gifts.
Of Pales ; soft, delicious, and benign :
The balmy quintessence of every flower,
And every grateful herb that decks the spring;
The fost'ring dew of tender sprouting life ;
The best refection of declining age ;