No More Learning

_ Set you to your wheel, and wax
Rich by the ductile wool and flax.
Yarn is an income, and the housewives' thread
The larder fills with meat, the bin with bread.

_Chorus Senum. _ Let wealth come in by comely thrift
And not by any sordid shift;
'Tis haste
Makes waste:
Extremes have still their fault:
_The softest fire makes the sweetest malt:
Who grips too hard the dry and slippery sand
Holds none at all, or little in his hand. _

_Chorus Virginum. _ Goddess of pleasure, youth and peace,
Give them the blessing of increase:
And thou, Lucina, that dost hear
The vows of those that children bear:
Whenas her April hour draws near,
Be thou then propitious there.

_Chorus Juvenum. _ Far hence be all speech that may anger move:
_Sweet words must nourish soft and gentle love_.

_Chorus Omnium. _ Live in the love of doves, and having told
The raven's years, go hence more ripe than old.

_Nice_, dainty.
_Painful_, painstaking; for the passage cp. Catull. _Nupt. Pel. et
Thet. _ 311-314.


634. TO HIS LOVELY MISTRESSES.

One night i' th' year, my dearest beauties, come
And bring those due drink-offerings to my tomb.
When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise,
And there to lick th' effused sacrifice:
Though paleness be the livery that I wear,
Look ye not wan or colourless for fear.
Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once show
The least grim look, or cast a frown on you:
Nor shall the tapers when I'm there burn blue.
This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by,
Cast on my girls a glance and loving eye,
Or fold mine arms and sigh, because I've lost
The world so soon, and in it you the most.
Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall,
Though then I smile and speak no words at all.

_Fold mine arms_, cp. "crossing his arms in this sad knot"
(_Tempest_).


635. UPON LOVE.

A crystal vial Cupid brought,
Which had a juice in it;
Of which who drank, he said no thought
Of love he should admit.

I, greedy of the prize, did drink,
And emptied soon the glass;
Which burnt me so, that I do think
The fire of hell it was.

Give me my earthen cups again,
The crystal I contemn;
Which, though enchas'd with pearls, contain
A deadly draught in them.

And thou, O Cupid! come not to
My threshold, since I see,
For all I have, or else can do,
Thou still wilt cozen me.


638. THE BEGGAR TO MAB, THE FAIRY QUEEN.

Please your Grace, from out your store,
Give an alms to one that's poor,
That your mickle may have more.
Black I'm grown for want of meat
Give me then an ant to eat,
Or the cleft ear of a mouse
Over-sour'd in drink of souce;
Or, sweet lady, reach to me
The abdomen of a bee;
Or commend a cricket's hip,
Or his huckson, to my scrip.
Give for bread a little bit
Of a pea that 'gins to chit,
And my full thanks take for it.
Flour of fuzz-balls, that's too good
For a man in needihood;
But the meal of milldust can
Well content a craving man.
Any orts the elves refuse
Well will serve the beggar's use.
But if this may seem too much
For an alms, then give me such
Little bits that nestle there
In the prisoner's panier.
So a blessing light upon
You and mighty Oberon:
That your plenty last till when
I return your alms again.

_Mickle_, much.
_Souce_, salt-pickle.
_Huckson_, huckle-bone.
_Chit_, sprout.
_Orts_, scraps of food.
_Prisoner's panier_, the basket which poor prisoners used to hang out
of the gaol windows for alms in money or kind.


639. AN END DECREED.

Let's be jocund while we may,
All things have an ending day;
And when once the work is done,
_Fates revolve no flax they've spun_.

_Revolve_, _i. e. _, bring back.


640. UPON A CHILD.

Here a pretty baby lies
Sung asleep with lullabies;
Pray be silent, and not stir
Th' easy earth that covers her.


641. PAINTING SOMETIMES PERMITTED.

If Nature do deny
Colours, let Art supply.


642. FAREWELL FROST, OR WELCOME THE SPRING.

Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appear
Re-cloth'd in fresh and verdant diaper.
Thaw'd are the snows, and now the lusty spring
Gives to each mead a neat enamelling.
The palms put forth their gems, and every tree
Now swaggers in her leafy gallantry.
The while the Daulian minstrel sweetly sings,
With warbling notes, her Terean sufferings.
What gentle winds perspire! As if here
Never had been the northern plunderer
To strip the trees and fields, to their distress,
Leaving them to a pitied nakedness.
And look how when a frantic storm doth tear
A stubborn oak, or holm, long growing there,
But lull'd to calmness, then succeeds a breeze
That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees:
So when this war, which tempest-like doth spoil
Our salt, our corn, our honey, wine and oil,
Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast
His inconsiderate frenzy off, at last,
The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease,
Bring in her bill, once more, the branch of peace.

_Gems_, buds.
_Daulian minstrel_, the nightingale Philomela.
_Terean sufferings_, _i. e. _, at the hands of Tereus.


643. THE HAG.

The hag is astride
This night for to ride,
The devil and she together;
Through thick and through thin,
Now out and then in,
Though ne'er so foul be the weather.

A thorn or a burr
She takes for a spur,
With a lash of a bramble she rides now;
Through brakes and through briars,
O'er ditches and mires,
She follows the spirit that guides now.

No beast for his food
Dare now range the wood,
But hush'd in his lair he lies lurking;
While mischiefs, by these,
On land and on seas,
At noon of night are a-working.

The storm will arise
And trouble the skies;
This night, and more for the wonder,
The ghost from the tomb
Affrighted shall come,
Call'd out by the clap of the thunder.


644. UPON AN OLD MAN: A RESIDENTIARY.

Tread, sirs, as lightly as ye can
Upon the grave of this old man.
Twice forty, bating but one year
And thrice three weeks, he lived here.
Whom gentle fate translated hence
To a more happy residence.
Yet, reader, let me tell thee this,
Which from his ghost a promise is,
If here ye will some few tears shed,
He'll never haunt ye now he's dead.

_Residentiary_, old inhabitant.


645. UPON TEARS.

Tears, though they're here below the sinner's brine,
Above they are the angels' spiced wine.


646. PHYSICIANS.

Physicians fight not against men; but these
Combat for men by conquering the disease.


647. THE PRIMITIÆ TO PARENTS.

Our household-gods our parents be;
And manners good require that we
The first fruits give to them, who gave
Us hands to get what here we have.


649. UPON LUCY. EPIG.

Sound teeth has Lucy, pure as pearl, and small,
With mellow lips, and luscious therewithal.


651. TO SILVIA.

I am holy while I stand
Circum-crost by thy pure hand;
But when that is gone, again
I, as others, am profane.

_Circum-crost_, marked round with a cross.


652. TO HIS CLOSET-GODS.

When I go hence, ye Closet-Gods, I fear
Never again to have ingression here
Where I have had whatever thing could be
Pleasant and precious to my muse and me.
Besides rare sweets, I had a book which none
Could read the intext but myself alone.
About the cover of this book there went
A curious-comely clean compartlement,
And, in the midst, to grace it more, was set
A blushing, pretty, peeping rubelet.
But now 'tis closed; and being shut and seal'd,
Be it, O be it, never more reveal'd!
Keep here still, Closet-Gods, 'fore whom I've set
Oblations oft of sweetest marmelet.

_Ingression_, entrance.
_Intext_, contents.


653. A BACCHANALIAN VERSE.

Fill me a mighty bowl
Up to the brim,
That I may drink
Unto my Jonson's soul.

Crown it again, again;
And thrice repeat
That happy heat,
To drink to thee, my Ben.

Well I can quaff, I see,
To th' number five
Or nine; but thrive
In frenzy ne'er like thee.

_To the number five or nine_, see Note.


654. LONG-LOOKED-FOR COMES AT LAST.

Though long it be, years may repay the debt;
_None loseth that which he in time may get_.


655. TO YOUTH.

Drink wine, and live here blitheful, while ye may:
_The morrow's life too late is; live to-day_.


656. NEVER TOO LATE TO DIE.

No man comes late unto that place from whence
Never man yet had a regredience.

_Regredience_, return.


657. A HYMN TO THE MUSES.

O you the virgins nine!
That do our souls incline
To noble discipline!
Nod to this vow of mine.
Come, then, and now inspire
My viol and my lyre
With your eternal fire,
And make me one entire
Composer in your choir.
Then I'll your altars strew
With roses sweet and new;
And ever live a true
Acknowledger of you.


658. ON HIMSELF.

I'll sing no more, nor will I longer write
Of that sweet lady, or that gallant knight.
I'll sing no more of frosts, snows, dews and showers;
No more of groves, meads, springs and wreaths of flowers.
I'll write no more, nor will I tell or sing
Of Cupid and his witty cozening:
I'll sing no more of death, or shall the grave
No more my dirges and my trentalls have.

_Trentalls_, service for the dead.


660. TO MOMUS.

Who read'st this book that I have writ,
And can'st not mend but carp at it;
By all the Muses! thou shalt be
Anathema to it and me.


661. AMBITION.

In ways to greatness, think on this,
_That slippery all ambition is_.


662. THE COUNTRY LIFE, TO THE HONOURED M. END. PORTER, GROOM OF THE
BEDCHAMBER TO HIS MAJESTY.

Sweet country life, to such unknown
Whose lives are others', not their own!
But serving courts and cities, be
Less happy, less enjoying thee.
Thou never plough'st the ocean's foam
To seek and bring rough pepper home;
Nor to the Eastern Ind dost rove
To bring from thence the scorched clove;
Nor, with the loss of thy lov'd rest,
Bring'st home the ingot from the West.
No, thy ambition's masterpiece
Flies no thought higher than a fleece;
Or how to pay thy hinds, and clear
All scores, and so to end the year:
But walk'st about thine own dear bounds,
Not envying others larger grounds:
For well thou know'st _'tis not th' extent
Of land makes life, but sweet content_.
When now the cock (the ploughman's horn)
Calls forth the lily-wristed morn,
Then to thy corn-fields thou dost go,
Which though well soil'd, yet thou dost know
That the best compost for the lands
Is the wise master's feet and hands.
There at the plough thou find'st thy team
With a hind whistling there to them;
And cheer'st them up by singing how
The kingdom's portion is the plough.
This done, then to th' enamelled meads
Thou go'st, and as thy foot there treads,
Thou see'st a present God-like power
Imprinted in each herb and flower;
And smell'st the breath of great-ey'd kine,
Sweet as the blossoms of the vine.
Here thou behold'st thy large sleek neat
Unto the dew-laps up in meat;
And, as thou look'st, the wanton steer,
The heifer, cow, and ox draw near
To make a pleasing pastime there.
These seen, thou go'st to view thy flocks
Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox,
And find'st their bellies there as full
Of short sweet grass as backs with wool,
And leav'st them, as they feed and fill,
A shepherd piping on a hill.
For sports, for pageantry and plays
Thou hast thy eves and holidays;
On which the young men and maids meet
To exercise their dancing feet;
Tripping the comely country round,
With daffodils and daisies crown'd.
Thy wakes, thy quintels here thou hast,
Thy May-poles, too, with garlands grac'd;
Thy morris dance, thy Whitsun ale,
Thy shearing feast which never fail;
Thy harvest-home, thy wassail bowl,
That's toss'd up after fox i' th' hole;
Thy mummeries, thy Twelfth-tide kings
And queens, thy Christmas revellings,
Thy nut-brown mirth, thy russet wit,
And no man pays too dear for it.
To these, thou hast thy times to go
And trace the hare i' th' treacherous snow;
Thy witty wiles to draw, and get
The lark into the trammel net;
Thou hast thy cockrood and thy glade
To take the precious pheasant made;
Thy lime-twigs, snares and pit-falls then
To catch the pilfering birds, not men.
O happy life! if that their good
The husbandmen but understood!
Who all the day themselves do please,
And younglings, with such sports as these,
And lying down have nought t' affright
Sweet sleep, that makes more short the night.
_Cætera desunt ----_

_Soil'd_, manured.
_Compost_, preparation.
_Fox i' th' hole_, a hopping game in which boys beat each other with
gloves.
_Cockrood_, a run for snaring woodcocks.
_Glade_, an opening in the wood across which nets were hung to catch
game. (Willoughby, _Ornithologie_, i. 3. )


663. TO ELECTRA.

I dare not ask a kiss,
I dare not beg a smile,
Lest having that, or this,
I might grow proud the while.

No, no, the utmost share
Of my desire shall be
Only to kiss that air
That lately kissed thee.


664. TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND, M. ARTHUR BARTLY.

When after many lusters thou shalt be
Wrapt up in sear-cloth with thine ancestry;
When of thy ragg'd escutcheons shall be seen
So little left, as if they ne'er had been;
Thou shalt thy name have, and thy fame's best trust,
Here with the generation of my Just.

_Luster_, a period of five years.


665. WHAT KIND OF MISTRESS HE WOULD HAVE.

Be the mistress of my choice
Clean in manners, clear in voice;
Be she witty more than wise,
Pure enough, though not precise;
Be she showing in her dress
Like a civil wilderness;
That the curious may detect
Order in a sweet neglect;
Be she rolling in her eye,
Tempting all the passers-by;
And each ringlet of her hair
An enchantment, or a snare
For to catch the lookers-on;
But herself held fast by none.
Let her Lucrece all day be,
Thais in the night to me.
Be she such as neither will
_Famish me, nor overfill_.


667. THE ROSEMARY BRANCH.

Grow for two ends, it matters not at all,
Be 't for my bridal or my burial.


669. UPON CRAB. EPIG.

Crab faces gowns with sundry furs; 'tis known
He keeps the fox fur for to face his own.


670. A PARANÆTICALL, OR ADVISIVE VERSE, TO HIS FRIEND, M. JOHN WICKS.

Is this a life, to break thy sleep,
To rise as soon as day doth peep?
To tire thy patient ox or ass
By noon, and let thy good days pass,
Not knowing this, that Jove decrees
Some mirth t' adulce man's miseries?
No; 'tis a life to have thine oil
Without extortion from thy soil;
Thy faithful fields to yield thee grain,
Although with some, yet little, pain;
To have thy mind, and nuptial bed,
With fears and cares uncumbered;
A pleasing wife, that by thy side
Lies softly panting like a bride.
This is to live, and to endear
Those minutes Time has lent us here.
Then, while fates suffer, live thou free
As is that air that circles thee,
And crown thy temples too, and let
Thy servant, not thy own self, sweat,
To strut thy barns with sheafs of wheat.
Time steals away like to a stream,
And we glide hence away with them.
_No sound recalls the hours once fled,
Or roses, being withered_;
Nor us, my friend, when we are lost,
Like to a dew or melted frost.
Then live we mirthful while we should,
And turn the iron age to gold.
Let's feast, and frolic, sing, and play,
And thus less last than live our day.
_Whose life with care is overcast,
That man's not said to live, but last;
Nor is't a life, seven years to tell,
But for to live that half seven well;_
And that we'll do, as men who know,
Some few sands spent, we hence must go,
Both to be blended in the urn
From whence there's never a return.

_Adulce_, sweeten.
_Strut_, swell.


671. ONCE SEEN AND NO MORE.

Thousands each day pass by, which we,
Once past and gone, no more shall see.


672. LOVE.

This axiom I have often heard,
_Kings ought to be more lov'd than fear'd_.


673. TO M. DENHAM ON HIS PROSPECTIVE POEM.

Or look'd I back unto the times hence flown
To praise those Muses and dislike our own--
Or did I walk those Pæan-gardens through,
To kick the flowers and scorn their odours too--
I might, and justly, be reputed here
One nicely mad or peevishly severe.
But by Apollo! as I worship wit,
Where I have cause to burn perfumes to it;
So, I confess, 'tis somewhat to do well
In our high art, although we can't excel
Like thee, or dare the buskins to unloose
Of thy brave, bold, and sweet Maronian muse.
But since I'm call'd, rare Denham, to be gone,
Take from thy Herrick this conclusion:
'Tis dignity in others, if they be
Crown'd poets, yet live princes under thee;
The while their wreaths and purple robes do shine
Less by their own gems than those beams of thine.

_Pæan-gardens_, gardens sacred to Apollo.
_Nicely_, fastidiously.


674. A HYMN TO THE LARES.

It was, and still my care is,
To worship ye, the Lares,
With crowns of greenest parsley
And garlic chives, not scarcely;
For favours here to warm me,
And not by fire to harm me;
For gladding so my hearth here
With inoffensive mirth here;
That while the wassail bowl here
With North-down ale doth troul here,
No syllable doth fall here
To mar the mirth at all here.
For which, O chimney-keepers!
(I dare not call ye sweepers)
So long as I am able
To keep a country table,
Great be my fare, or small cheer,
I'll eat and drink up all here.

_Troul_, pass round.


675. DENIAL IN WOMEN NO DISHEARTENING TO MEN.

Women, although they ne'er so goodly make it,
Their fashion is, but to say no, to take it.


676. ADVERSITY.

_Love is maintain'd by wealth_; when all is spent,
_Adversity then breeds the discontent_.


677. TO FORTUNE.

Tumble me down, and I will sit
Upon my ruins, smiling yet;
Tear me to tatters, yet I'll be
Patient in my necessity.
Laugh at my scraps of clothes, and shun
Me, as a fear'd infection;
Yet, scare-crow-like, I'll walk as one
Neglecting thy derision.


678. TO ANTHEA.

Come, Anthea, know thou this,
_Love at no time idle is_;
Let's be doing, though we play
But at push-pin half the day;
Chains of sweet bents let us make
Captive one, or both, to take:
In which bondage we will lie,
Souls transfusing thus, and die.

_Push-pin_, a childish game in which one player placed a pin and the
other pushed it.
_Bents_, grasses.


679. CRUELTIES.

Nero commanded; but withdrew his eyes
From the beholding death and cruelties.


680. PERSEVERANCE.

Hast thou begun an act? ne'er then give o'er:
_No man despairs to do what's done before_.


681. UPON HIS VERSES.

What offspring other men have got,
The how, where, when, I question not.
These are the children I have left,
Adopted some, none got by theft;
But all are touch'd, like lawful plate,
And no verse illegitimate.

_Touch'd_, tested.


682. DISTANCE BETTERS DIGNITIES.

Kings must not oft be seen by public eyes:
_State at a distance adds to dignities_.


683. HEALTH.

Health is no other, as the learned hold,
But a just measure both of heat and cold.


684. TO DIANEME. A CEREMONY IN GLOUCESTER.

I'll to thee a simnel bring,
'Gainst thou go'st a-mothering:
So that when she blesseth thee,
Half that blessing thou'lt give me.

_Simnel_, a cake, originally made of fine flour, eaten at Mid-Lent.
_A-mothering_, visiting relations in Mid-Lent, but see Note.


685. TO THE KING.

Give way, give way! now, now my Charles shines here
A public light, in this immensive sphere;
Some stars were fix'd before, but these are dim
Compar'd, in this my ample orb, to him.
Draw in your feeble fires, while that he
Appears but in his meaner majesty.
Where, if such glory flashes from his name,
Which is his shade, who can abide his flame!
_Princes, and such like public lights as these,
Must not be look'd on but at distances:
For, if we gaze on these brave lamps too near,
Our eyes they'll blind, or if not blind, they'll blear. _

_Immensive_, immeasurable.


686. THE FUNERAL RITES OF THE ROSE.

The rose was sick, and smiling died;
And, being to be sanctified,
About the bed there sighing stood
The sweet and flowery sisterhood.
Some hung the head, while some did bring,
To wash her, water from the spring.
Some laid her forth, while others wept,
But all a solemn fast there kept.
The holy sisters, some among,
The sacred dirge and trentall sung.
But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere,
As heaven had spent all perfumes there.
At last, when prayers for the dead
And rites were all accomplished,
They, weeping, spread a lawny loom
And clos'd her up, as in a tomb.

_Trentall_, a service for the dead.


687. THE RAINBOW, OR CURIOUS COVENANT.

Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rain;
And as they thus did entertain
The gentle beams from Julia's sight
To mine eyes levell'd opposite,
O thing admir'd! there did appear
A curious rainbow smiling there;
Which was the covenant that she
No more would drown mine eyes or me.


688. THE LAST STROKE STRIKES SURE.

Though by well warding many blows we've pass'd,
_That stroke most fear'd is which is struck the last_.


689. FORTUNE.

Fortune's a blind profuser of her own,
Too much she gives to some, enough to none.


690. STOOL-BALL.

At stool-ball, Lucia, let us play
For sugar-cakes and wine:
Or for a tansy let us pay,
The loss, or thine, or mine.

If thou, my dear, a winner be
At trundling of the ball,
The wager thou shall have, and me,
And my misfortunes all.

But if, my sweetest, I shall get,
Then I desire but this:
That likewise I may pay the bet
And have for all a kiss.

_Stool-ball_, a game of ball played by girls.
_Tansy_, a cake made of eggs, cream, and herbs.


691. TO SAPPHO.

Let us now take time and play,
Love, and live here while we may;
Drink rich wine, and make good cheer,
While we have our being here;
For once dead and laid i' th' grave,
No return from thence we have.


692. ON POET PRAT. EPIG.

Prat he writes satires, but herein's the fault,
In no one satire there's a mite of salt.


693. UPON TUCK. EPIG.

At post and pair, or slam, Tom Tuck would play
This Christmas, but his want wherewith says nay.

_Post and pair, or slam_, old games of cards. Ben Jonson calls the
former a "thrifty and right worshipful game".


694. BITING OF BEGGARS.

Who, railing, drives the lazar from his door,
Instead of alms, sets dogs upon the poor.


695. THE MAY-POLE.

The May-pole is up!
Now give me the cup,
I'll drink to the garlands around it;
But first unto those
Whose hands did compose
The glory of flowers that crown'd it.

A health to my girls,
Whose husbands may earls
Or lords be, granting my wishes,
And when that ye wed
To the bridal bed,
Then multiply all like to fishes.


696. MEN MIND NO STATE IN SICKNESS.

That flow of gallants which approach
To kiss thy hand from out the coach;
That fleet of lackeys which do run
Before thy swift postillion;
Those strong-hoof'd mules which we behold
Rein'd in with purple, pearl, and gold,
And shod with silver, prove to be
The drawers of the axletree.
Thy wife, thy children, and the state
Of Persian looms and antique plate;
All these, and more, shall then afford
No joy to thee, their sickly lord.


697. ADVERSITY.

Adversity hurts none, but only such
Whom whitest fortune dandled has too much.


698. WANT.

Need is no vice at all, though here it be
With men a loathed inconveniency.


699. GRIEF.

Sorrows divided amongst many, less
Discruciate a man in deep distress.

_Discruciate_, torture.


700. LOVE PALPABLE.

I press'd my Julia's lips, and in the kiss
Her soul and love were palpable in this.


701. NO ACTION HARD TO AFFECTION.

Nothing hard or harsh can prove
Unto those that truly love.


702. MEAN THINGS OVERCOME MIGHTY.

By the weak'st means things mighty are o'erthrown.
_He's lord of thy life who contemns his own_.


705. THE BRACELET OF PEARL: TO SILVIA.

I brake thy bracelet 'gainst my will,
And, wretched, I did see
Thee discomposed then, and still
Art discontent with me.

One gem was lost, and I will get
A richer pearl for thee,
Than ever, dearest Silvia, yet
Was drunk to Antony.

Or, for revenge, I'll tell thee what
Thou for the breach shall do;
First crack the strings, and after that
Cleave thou my heart in two.


706. HOW ROSES CAME RED.

'Tis said, as Cupid danc'd among
The gods he down the nectar flung,
Which on the white rose being shed
Made it for ever after red.


707. KINGS.

Men are not born kings, but are men renown'd;
Chose first, confirm'd next, and at last are crown'd.


708. FIRST WORK, AND THEN WAGES.

Preposterous is that order, when we run
To ask our wages ere our work be done.

_Preposterous_, lit. hind part before.


709. TEARS AND LAUGHTER.

Knew'st thou one month would take thy life away,
Thou'dst weep; but laugh, should it not last a day.


710. GLORY.

Glory no other thing is, Tully says,
Than a man's frequent fame spoke out with praise.


711. POSSESSIONS.

Those possessions short-liv'd are,
Into the which we come by war.


713. HIS RETURN TO LONDON.

From the dull confines of the drooping West
To see the day spring from the pregnant East,
Ravish'd in spirit I come, nay, more, I fly
To thee, bless'd place of my nativity!
Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground,
With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd.
O fruitful Genius! that bestowest here
An everlasting plenty, year by year.
O place! O people! Manners! fram'd to please
All nations, customs, kindreds, languages!
I am a free-born Roman; suffer, then,
That I amongst you live a citizen.
London my home is: though by hard fate sent
Into a long and irksome banishment;
Yet since call'd back; henceforward let me be,
O native country, repossess'd by thee!
For, rather than I'll to the West return,
I'll beg of thee first here to have mine urn.
Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall;
Give thou my sacred relics burial.


714. NOT EVERY DAY FIT FOR VERSE.

'Tis not ev'ry day that I
Fitted am to prophesy;
No; but when the spirit fills
The fantastic pannicles
Full of fire, then I write
As the godhead doth indite.
Thus enrag'd, my lines are hurled,
Like the Sybil's, through the world.
Look how next the holy fire
Either slakes, or doth retire;
So the fancy cools, till when
That brave spirit comes again.

_Fantastic pannicles_, brain cells of the imagination.
_Sybil's_, the oracles of the Cumæan Sybil were written on leaves,
which the wind blew about her cave. --Virg. Æn. iv.


715.