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 | The Third Part of the Works of Mr. Abraham Cowley
Being his Six Book of Plants |  |
LIfes lowest, but far greatest Sphere, I sing,
Of all things, that adorn the gawdy Spring:
Such as in Deserts live, whom, unconfin'd,
None but the simple Laws of Nature bind:
And those, who growing tame by human care,
The well-bred Citizens of Gardens are:
Those that aspire to Sol, their Sires bright Face,
Or stoop into their Mother Earths embrace:
Such as drink Streams, or Wells, or those, dry fed,
Who have Jove only for their Ganymede:
And all, that Salomon's lost Work of old,
(Ah fatal Loss!) so wisely did unfold.
Though I the Oaks vivacious Age shou'd live,
I ne'r to all their Names in Verse could give.
Of all things, that adorn the gawdy Spring:
Such as in Deserts live, whom, unconfin'd,
None but the simple Laws of Nature bind:
And those, who growing tame by human care,
The well-bred Citizens of Gardens are:
Those that aspire to Sol, their Sires bright Face,
Or stoop into their Mother Earths embrace:
Such as drink Streams, or Wells, or those, dry fed,
Who have Jove only for their Ganymede:
And all, that Salomon's lost Work of old,
(Ah fatal Loss!) so wisely did unfold.
Though I the Oaks vivacious Age shou'd live,
I ne'r to all their Names in Verse could give.
Yet I the Rise of Groves will briefly show
In Verses, like their Trees, ranged all a-row.
To which some one perhaps new Shades may joyn,
Till mine, at last, become a Grove Divine.
Assist me, Phœbus! Wit of Heav'n, whose care
So bounteously both Plants and Poets share.
Where e'er thou com'st, hurl Light and Heat around,
And with new Life enamel all the Ground;
As when the Spring feels thee, with Magick Light,
Break through the Bonds of the dead Winters Night;
When thee to Colchis the gilt Ram conveys, [1]
And the warm'd North rejoyces in thy Rays.
Where shall I first begin? For, with delight
Each gentle Plant me kindly does invite.
My self to slavish Method I'll not tye,
But like the Bee, where e'er I please, will flie;
Where I the glorious hopes of Honey see,
Or the free Wing of Fancy carries me.
Here no fine Garden Emblems shall reside,
In well-made Beds to prostitute their Pride:
But we rich Nature, who her Gifts bestows,
Unlimited (nor the vast Treasure knows)
And various plenty of the pathless Woods
Will follow; Poor Men only count their Goods.
Do thou, bright Phœbus! guide me luckily
To the first Plant by some kind Augury.
In Verses, like their Trees, ranged all a-row.
To which some one perhaps new Shades may joyn,
Till mine, at last, become a Grove Divine.
Assist me, Phœbus! Wit of Heav'n, whose care
So bounteously both Plants and Poets share.
Where e'er thou com'st, hurl Light and Heat around,
And with new Life enamel all the Ground;
As when the Spring feels thee, with Magick Light,
Break through the Bonds of the dead Winters Night;
When thee to Colchis the gilt Ram conveys, [1]
And the warm'd North rejoyces in thy Rays.
Where shall I first begin? For, with delight
Each gentle Plant me kindly does invite.
My self to slavish Method I'll not tye,
But like the Bee, where e'er I please, will flie;
Where I the glorious hopes of Honey see,
Or the free Wing of Fancy carries me.
Here no fine Garden Emblems shall reside,
In well-made Beds to prostitute their Pride:
But we rich Nature, who her Gifts bestows,
Unlimited (nor the vast Treasure knows)
And various plenty of the pathless Woods
Will follow; Poor Men only count their Goods.
Do thou, bright Phœbus! guide me luckily
To the first Plant by some kind Augury.
The Omen's good; so, we may hope the best,
The Gods mild Looks our grand Design have blest.
For thou kind Bet'ny! art the first we see,
And opportunely com'st dear Plant! for me;
For me, because the Brain thou dost protect,
See, if y'are wise, my Brain you don't neglect.
For it concerns you, that in Health that be,
I sing thy Sisters, Betony! and thee.
But who, best Plant! can praise thee to thy merit,
Or number the Perfections you inherit?
The Trees, he, in th'Hercynian Woods as well,
Or Roses, that in Pæstum grow, may tell.
Musa at large, thy say, thy Praises writ, [2]
But, I suppose, did part of them omit.
Cæsar his Triumphs would recount; do thou,
Greater than he a Conqueress! do so now.
The Gods mild Looks our grand Design have blest.
For thou kind Bet'ny! art the first we see,
And opportunely com'st dear Plant! for me;
For me, because the Brain thou dost protect,
See, if y'are wise, my Brain you don't neglect.
For it concerns you, that in Health that be,
I sing thy Sisters, Betony! and thee.
But who, best Plant! can praise thee to thy merit,
Or number the Perfections you inherit?
The Trees, he, in th'Hercynian Woods as well,
Or Roses, that in Pæstum grow, may tell.
Musa at large, thy say, thy Praises writ, [2]
But, I suppose, did part of them omit.
Cæsar his Triumphs would recount; do thou,
Greater than he a Conqueress! do so now.
| The Third Part of the Works of Mr. Abraham Cowley
Being his Six Book of Plants | |