University of Virginia Library

“Of Solitude are you not weary grown,
“O taste the Pleasures of a Court and Throne:
“I'll wait upon your Levee o'er the Seas,
“See you anointed King, to rule the Trees.
“Let grovling Shrubs stick in their native Mire,
“Rot on the moary Dale, and ne'er look higher;
“A nobler Spirit doth your Breast inspire.

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“You know the Top of Glory is a Crown,
“And this high Honour you can call your own.
The Fig repli'd, “I know not State Affairs;
“(Sound sleeps the Tree that's void of humane Cares,)
“Shall I forsake my happy tranquil Life,
“To be a Father to the Sons of Strife?
“Venture upon the boist'rous faithless Seas,
“To be anointed King, and rule the Trees?
“No, no, I'll keep within my native Bounds,
“I would not give a Fig for forty Crowns.
“Go to the sacred Nursery, Apricock;
“There get a Twig, sprung from an ancient Stock,
“Transplant the Royal Plant beyond the Seas,
“You may ingraft upon it what you please,
“But lest he languish with the change of Air,
“(For I have hear'd of some bad Gard'ners there,)
“Don't prune too soon, nor pluck the ripening Fruit;
“Or if you lop the Branches, spare the Root.
“So, farewell Sir, I give your Senate Thanks,
“Perpetual flagrance dwell upon their Banks;
“Wise be their Choice, assist them mighty Jove,
“To choose a Tree may bless the Woods and Grove.