Who, that has reason, and his smell, With exhalations of dirt and smoke, And all th' uncleanness which does drown, When Epicurus to the world had taught, That pleasure was the chiefest good (And was, perhaps, i' th' right, if rightly understood), His life he to his doctrine brought, r And in a garden's shade that sovereign pleasure sought: Whoever a true epicure would be, May there find cheap and virtuous luxury. Vitellius's table, which did hold As many creatures as the ark of old; Help'd with a little art and industry, The wanton taste no fish or fowl can choose, 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, Though she on silver floors did tread, Though she look'd up to roofs of gold, 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, Was by the garden from the palace won ; 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; That salt of life, which does to all a relish give, health. The tree of life, when it in Eden stood, It always here is freshest seen; "T is only here an ever-green. If, through the strong and beauteous fence And wholesome labours, and a quiet mind, They must not think here to assail A land unarmed, or without a guard; Scarce any plant is growing here, Which against death some weapon does not bear. For life the ornaments of pride; Where does the wisdom and the power divine Where do we finer strokes and colours sée Than when we with attention look Ev'n in a bush the radiant Deity. Although no part of mighty nature be More stor❜d with beauty, power, and mystery; 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, 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 And the wild giants of the wood receive The golden fruit, that worthy is He does the savage hawthorn teach To bear the medlar and the pear: 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 Which by his own imperial hands was made : If I, my friends (said he), should to you show |