<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418932" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Cyder: Book II</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Harcourt, Whom th' ingenuous Love of Arts <br> Has carry'd from Thy native Soil, beyond <br> Th' eternal Alpine Snows, and now detains <br> In Italy's waste Realms, how long must we <br> Lament Thy Absence? Whilst in sweet Sojourn <br> Thou view'st the Reliques of old Rome; or what, <br> Unrival'd Authors by their Presence, made <br> For ever venerable, rural Seats, <br> Tibur, and Tusculum, or Virgil's Urn <br> Green with immortal Bays, which haply Thou, <br> Respecting his great Name, dost now approach <br> With bended Knee, and strow with purple Flow'rs; <br> Unmindful of Thy Friends, that ill can brook <br> This long Delay. At length, Dear Youth, return, <br> Of Wit, and Judgement ripe in blooming Years, <br> And Britain's Isle with Latian Knowledge grace. <br> Return, and let Thy Father's Worth excite <br> Thirst of Preeminence; see! how the Cause <br> Of Widows, and of Orphans He asserts <br> With winning Rhetoric, and well argu'd Law! <br> Mark well His Footsteps, and, like Him, deserve <br> Thy Prince's Favour, and Thy Country's Love. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Mean while (altho' the Massic Grape delights <br> Pregnant of racy Juice, and Formian Hills <br> Temper Thy Cups, yet) wilt not Thou reject <br> Thy native Liquors: Lo! for Thee my Mill <br> Now grinds choice Apples, and the British Vats <br> O'erflow with generous Cyder; far remote <br> Accept this Labour, nor despise the Muse, <br> That, passing Lands, and Seas, on Thee attends. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thus far of Trees: The pleasing Task remains, <br> To sing of Wines, and Autumn's blest Increase. <br> Th' Effects of Art are shewn, yet what avails <br> 'Gainst Heav'n? Oft, notwithstanding all thy Care <br> To help thy Plants, when the small Fruit'ry seems <br> Exempt from Ills, an oriental Blast <br> Disastrous flies, soon as the Hind, fatigu'd, <br> Unyokes his Team; the tender Freight, unskill'd <br> To bear the hot Disease, distemper'd pines <br> In the Year's Prime, the deadly Plague annoys <br> The wide Inclosure; think not vainly now <br> To treat thy Neighbours with mellifluous Cups, <br> Thus disappointed: If the former Years <br> Exhibit no Supplies, alas! thou must, <br> With tastless Water wash thy droughty Throat. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> A thousand Accidents the Farmer's Hopes <br> Subvert, or checque; uncertain all his Toil, <br> 'Till lusty Autumn's luke-warm Days, allay'd <br> With gentle Colds, insensibly confirm <br> His ripening Labours: Autumn to the Fruits <br> Earth's various Lap produces, Vigour gives <br> Equal, intenerating milky Grain, <br> Berries, and Sky-dy'd Plums, and what in Coat <br> Rough, or soft Rind, or bearded Husk, or Shell; <br> Fat Olives, and Pistacio's fragrant Nut, <br> And the Pine's tastful Apple: Autumn paints <br> Ausonian Hills with Grapes, whilst English Plains <br> Blush with pomaceous Harvests, breathing Sweets. <br> O let me now, when the kind early Dew <br> Unlocks th' embosom'd Odors, walk among <br> The well rang'd Files of Trees, whose full-ag'd Store <br> Diffuse Ambrosial Steams, than Myrrh, or Nard <br> More grateful, or perfuming flow'ry Beane! <br> Soft whisp'ring Airs, and the Larks mattin Song <br> Then woo to musing, and becalm the Mind <br> Perplex'd with irksome Thoughts. Thrice happy time, <br> Best Portion of the various Year, in which <br> Nature rejoyceth, smiling on her Works <br> Lovely, to full Perfection wrought! but ah, <br> Short are our Joys, and neighb'ring Griefs disturb <br> Our pleasant Hours. Inclement Winter dwells <br> Contiguous; forthwith frosty Blasts deface <br> The blithsome Year: Trees of their shrivel'd Fruits <br> Are widow'd, dreery Storms o'er all prevail. <br> Now, now's the time; e'er hasty Suns forbid <br> To work, disburthen thou thy sapless Wood <br> Of its rich Progeny; the turgid Fruit <br> Abounds with mellow Liquor; now exhort <br> Thy Hinds to exercise the pointed Steel <br> On the hard Rock, and give a wheely Form <br> To the expected Grinder: Now prepare <br> Materials for thy Mill, a sturdy Post <br> Cylindric, to support the Grinder's Weight <br> Excessive, and a flexile Sallow' entrench'd, <br> Rounding, capacious of the juicy Hord. <br> Nor must thou not be mindful of thy Press <br> Long e'er the Vintage; but with timely Care <br> Shave the Goat's shaggy Beard, least thou too late, <br> In vain should'st seek a Strainer, to dispart <br> The husky, terrene Dregs, from purer Must. <br> Be cautious next a proper Steed to find, <br> Whose Prime is past; the vigorous Horse disdains <br> Such servile Labours, or, if forc'd, forgets <br> His past Atchievements, and victorious Palms. <br> Blind Bayard rather, worn with Work, and Years, <br> Shall roll th' unweildy Stone; with sober Pace <br> He'll tread the circling Path 'till dewy Eve, <br> From early Day-spring, pleas'd to find his Age <br> Declining, not unuseful to his Lord. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Some, when the Press, by utmost Vigour screw'd, <br> Has drain'd the pulpous Mass, regale their Swine <br> With the dry Refuse; thou, more wise shalt steep <br> Thy Husks in Water, and again employ <br> The pondrous Engine. Water will imbibe <br> The small Remains of Spirit, and acquire <br> A vinous Flavour; this the Peasants blith <br> Will quaff, and whistle, as thy tinkling Team <br> They drive, and sing of Fusca's radiant Eyes, <br> Pleas'd with the medly Draught. Not shalt thou now <br> Reject the Apple-Cheese, tho' quite exhaust; <br> Ev'n now 'twill cherish, and improve the Roots <br> Of sickly Plants; new Vigor hence convey'd <br> Will yield an Harvest of unusual Growth. <br> Such Profit springs from Husks discreetly us'd! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The tender Apples, from their Parents rent <br> By stormy Shocks, must not neglected lye, <br> The Prey of Worms: A frugal Man I knew, <br> Rich in one barren Acre, which, subdu'd <br> By endless Culture, with sufficient Must <br> His Casks replenisht yearly: He no more <br> Desir'd, nor wanted, diligent to learn <br> The various Seasons, and by Skill repell <br> Invading Pests, successful in his Cares, <br> 'Till the damp Lybian Wind, with Tempests arm'd <br> Outrageous, bluster'd horrible amidst <br> His Cyder-Grove: O'er-turn'd by furious Blasts, <br> The sightly Ranks fall prostrate, and around <br> Their Fruitage scatter'd, from the genial Boughs <br> Stript immature: Yet did he not repine, <br> Nor curse his Stars; but prudent, his fall'n Heaps <br> Collecting, cherish'd with the tepid Wreaths <br> Of tedded Grass, and the Sun's mellowing Beams <br> Rival'd with artful Heats, and thence procur'd <br> A costly Liquor, by improving Time <br> Equal'd with what the happiest Vintage bears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But this I warn Thee, and shall alway warn, <br> No heterogeneous Mixtures use, as some <br> With watry Turneps have debas'd their Wines, <br> Too frugal; nor let the crude Humors dance <br> In heated Brass, steaming with Fire intense; <br> Altho' Devonia much commends the Use <br> Of strengthning Vulcan; with their native Strength <br> Thy Wines sufficient, other Aid refuse; <br> And, when th' allotted Orb of Time's compleat, <br> Are more commended than the labour'd Drinks. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nor let thy Avarice tempt thee to withdraw <br> The Priest's appointed Share; with cheerful Heart <br> The tenth of thy Increase bestow, and own <br> Heav'n's bounteous Goodness, that will sure repay <br> Thy grateful Duty: This neglected, fear <br> Signal Avengeance, such as over-took <br> A Miser, that unjustly once with-held <br> The Clergy's Due; relying on himself, <br> His Fields he tended with successless Care, <br> Early, and late, when, or unwish't for Rain <br> Descended, or unseasonable Frosts <br> Curb'd his increasing Hopes, or when around <br> The Clouds dropt Fatness, in the middle Sky <br> The Dew suspended staid, and left unmoist <br> His execrable Glebe; recording this, <br> Be Just, and Wise, and tremble to transgress. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Learn now, the Promise of the coming Year <br> To know, that by no flattering Signs abus'd, <br> Thou wisely may'st provide: The various Moon <br> Prophetic, and attendant Stars explain <br> Each rising Dawn; e'er Icy Crusts surmount <br> The current Stream, the heav'nly Orbs serene <br> Twinkle with trembling Rays, and Cynthia glows <br> With Light unsully'd: Now the Fowler, warn'd <br> By these good Omens, with swift early Steps <br> Treads the crimp Earth, ranging thro' Fields and Glades <br> Offensive to the Birds, sulphureous Death <br> Checques their mid Flight, and heedless while they strain <br> Their tuneful Throats, the tow'ring, heavy Lead <br> O'er-takes their Speed; they leave their little Lives <br> Above the Clouds, præcipitant to Earth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The Woodcocks early Visit, and Abode <br> Of long Continuance on our temperate Clime, <br> Foretell a liberal Harvest: He of Times <br> Intelligent, th' harsh Hyperborean Ice <br> Shuns for our equal Winters; when our Suns <br> Cleave the chill'd Soil, he backward wings his Way <br> To Scandinavian frozen Summers, meet <br> For his num'd Blood. But nothing profits more <br> Than frequent Snows: O, may'st Thou often see <br> Thy Furrows whiten'd by the woolly Rain, <br> Nutricious! Secret Nitre lurks within <br> The porous Wet, quick'ning the languid Glebe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Sometimes thou shalt with fervent Vows implore <br> A moderate Wind; the Orchat loves to wave <br> With Winter-Winds, before the Gems exert <br> Their feeble Heads; the loosen'd Roots then drink <br> Large Increment, Earnest of happy Years. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nor will it nothing profit to observe <br> The monthly Stars, their pow'rful Influence <br> O'er planted Fields, what Vegetables reign <br> Under each Sign. On our Account has Jove <br> Indulgent, to all Moons some succulent Plant <br> Allotted, that poor, helpless Man might slack <br> His present Thirst, and Matter find for Toil. <br> Now will the Corinths, now the Rasps supply <br> Delicious Draughts; the Quinces now, or Plums, <br> Or Cherries, or the fair Thisbeian Fruit <br> Are prest to Wines; the Britons squeeze the Works <br> Of sedulous Bees, and mixing od'rous Herbs <br> Prepare balsamic Cups, to wheezing Lungs <br> Medicinal, and short-breath'd, ancient Sires. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But, if Thou' rt indefatigably bent <br> To toil, and omnifarious Drinks wou'dst brew; <br> Besides the Orchat, ev'ry Hedge, and Bush <br> Affords Assistance; ev'n afflictive Birch, <br> Curs'd by unletter'd, idle Youth, distills <br> A limpid Current from her wounded Bark, <br> Profuse of nursing Sap. When Solar Beams <br>Parch thirsty human Veins, the damask't Meads, <br> Unforc'd display ten thousand painted Flow'rs <br> Useful in Potables. Thy little Sons <br> Permit to range the Pastures; gladly they <br> Will mow the Cowslip-Posies, faintly sweet, <br> From whence thou artificial Wines shalt drain <br> Of icy Taste, that, in mid Fervors, best <br> Slack craving Thirst, and mitigate the Day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Happy Iërne, whose most wholsome Air <br> Poisons envenom'd Spiders, and forbids <br> The baleful Toad, and Viper from her Shore! <br> More happy in her Balmy Draughts, (enrich'd <br> With Miscellaneous Spices, and the Root <br> For Thirst-abating Sweetness prais'd,) which wide <br> Extend her Fame, and to each drooping Heart <br> Present Redress, and lively Health convey. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> See, how the Belgæ, Sedulous, and Stout, <br> With Bowls of fat'ning Mum, or blissful Cups <br> Of Kernell-relish'd Fluids, the fair Star <br> Of early Phosphorus salute, at Noon <br> Jocund with frequent-rising Fumes! by Use <br> Instructed, thus to quell their Native Flegm <br> Prevailing, and engender wayward Mirth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> What need to treat of distant Climes, remov'd <br> Far from the slopeing Journey of the Year, <br> Beyond Petsora, and Islandic Coasts? <br> Where ever-during Snows, perpetual Shades <br> Of Darkness, would congeal their livid Blood, <br> Did not the Arctic Tract, spontaneous yield <br> A cheering purple Berry, big with Wine, <br> Intensely fervent, which each Hour they crave, <br> Spread round a flaming Pile of Pines, and oft <br> They interlard their native Drinks with choice <br> Of strongest Brandy, yet scarce with these Aids <br> Enabl'd to prevent the suddain Rot <br> Of freezing Nose, and quick-decaying Feet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nor less the Sable Borderers of Nile, <br> Nor who Taprobane manure, nor They, <br> Whom sunny Borneo bears, are stor'd with Streams <br> Egregious, Rum, and Rice's Spirit extract. <br> For here, expos'd to perpendicular Rays, <br> In vain they covet Shades, and Thrascias' Gales, <br> Pining with Æquinoctial Heat, unless <br> The Cordial Glass perpetual Motion keep, <br> Quick circuiting; nor dare they close their Eyes, <br> Void of a bulky Charger near their Lips, <br> With which, in often-interrupted Sleep, <br> Their frying Blood compells to irrigate <br> Their dry-furr'd Tongues, else minutely to Death <br> Obnoxious, dismal Death, th' Effect of Drought! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> More happy they, born in Columbus' World, <br> Carybbes, and they, whom the Cotton Plant <br> With downy-sprouting Vests arrays! Their Woods <br> Bow with prodigious Nuts, that give at once <br> Celestial Food, and Nectar; then, at hand <br> The Lemmon, uncorrupt with Voyage long, <br> To vinous Spirits added (heav'nly Drink!) <br> They with Pneumatic Engine, ceaseless draw, <br> Intent on Laughter; a continual Tide <br> Flows from th' exhilerating Fount. As, when <br> Against a secret Cliff, with soddain Shock <br> A Ship is dash'd, and leaking drinks the Sea, <br> Th' astonish'd Mariners ay ply the Pump, <br> No Stay, nor Rest, 'till the wide Breach is clos'd. <br> So they (but chearful) unfatigu'd, still move <br> The draining Sucker, then alone concern'd, <br> When the dry Bowl forbids their pleasing Work. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But if to hording Thou art bent, thy Hopes <br> Are frustrate, shou'dst Thou think thy Pipes will flow <br> With early-limpid Wine. The horded Store, <br> And the harsh Draught, must twice endure the Sun's <br> Kind strengthning Heat, twice Winter's purging Cold. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> There are, that a compounded Fluid drain <br> From different Mixtures, Woodcock, Pippin, Moyle, <br> Rough Eliot, sweet Permain, the blended Streams <br> (Each mutually correcting each) create <br> A pleasurable Medly, of what Taste <br> Hardly distinguish'd; as the show'ry Arch, <br> With listed Colours gay, Or, Azure, Gules, <br> Delights, and puzles the Beholder's Eye, <br> That views the watry Brede, with thousand Shews <br> Of Painture vary'd, yet's unskill'd to tell <br> Or where one Colour rises, or one faints. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Some Cyders have by Art, or Age unlearn'd <br> Their genuine Relish, and of sundry Vines <br> Assum'd the Flavour; one sort counterfeits <br> The Spanish Product, this, to Gauls has seem'd <br> The sparkling Nectar of Champaigne; with that, <br> A German oft has swill'd his Throat, and sworn, <br> Deluded, that Imperial Rhine bestow'd <br> The Generous Rummer, whilst the Owner pleas'd, <br> Laughs inly at his Guests, thus entertain'd <br> With Foreign Vintage from his Cyder-Cask. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Soon as thy Liquor from the narrow Cells <br> Of close-prest Husks is freed, thou must refrain <br> Thy thirsty Soul; let none persuade to broach <br> Thy thick, unwholsom, undigested Cades: <br> The hoary Frosts, and Northern Blasts take care <br> Thy muddy Bev'rage to serene, and drive <br> Præcipitant the baser, ropy Lees. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And now thy Wine's transpicuous, purg'd from all <br> It's earthy Gross, yet let it feed awhile <br> On the fat Refuse, least too soon disjoin'd <br> From spritely, it, to sharp, or vappid change. <br> When to convenient Vigour it attains, <br> Suffice it to provide a brazen Tube <br> Inflext; self-taught, and voluntary flies <br> The defecated Liquor, thro' the Vent <br> Ascending, then by downward Tract convey'd, <br> Spouts into subject Vessels, lovely clear. <br> As when a Noon-tide Sun, with Summer Beams, <br> Darts thro' a Cloud, her watry Skirts are edg'd <br> With lucid Amber, or undrossy Gold: <br> So, and so richly, the purg'd Liquid shines. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Now also, when the Colds abate, nor yet <br> Full Summer shines, a dubious Season, close <br> In Glass thy purer Streams, and let them gain, <br> From due Confinement, Spirit, and Flavour new. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> For this Intent, the subtle Chymist feeds <br> Perpetual Flames, whose unresisted Force <br> O'er Sand, and Ashes, and the stubborn Flint <br> Prevailing, turns into a fusil Sea, <br> That in his Furnace bubbles sunny-red: <br> From hence a glowing Drop, with hollow'd Steel <br> He takes, and by one efficacious Breath <br> Dilates to a surprising Cube, or Sphære, <br> Or Oval, and fit Receptacles forms <br> For every Liquid, with his plastic Lungs, <br> To human Life subservient; By his Means <br> Cyders in Metal frail improve; the Moyle, <br> And tastful Pippin, in a Moon's short Year, <br> Acquire compleat Perfection: Now they smoke <br> Transparent, sparkling in each Drop, Delight <br> Of curious Palate, by fair Virgins crav'd. <br> But harsher Fluids different lengths of time <br> Expect: Thy Flask will slowly mitigate <br> The Eliot's Roughness. Stirom, firmest Fruit, <br> Embottled (long as Priameian Troy <br> Withstood the Greeks) endures, e'er justly mild. <br> Soften'd by Age, it youthful Vigor gains, <br> Fallacious Drink! Ye honest Men beware, <br> Nor trust its Smoothness; The third circling Glass <br> Suffices Virtue: But may Hypocrites, <br> (That slyly speak one thing, another think, <br> Hateful as Hell) pleas'd with the Relish weak, <br> Drink on unwarn'd, 'till by inchanting Cups <br> Infatuate, they their wily Thoughts disclose, <br> And thro' Intemperance grow a while sincere. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The Farmer's Toil is done; his Cades mature, <br> Now call for Vent, his Lands exhaust permit <br> T' indulge awhile. Now solemn Rites he pays <br> To Bacchus, Author of Heart-cheering Mirth. <br> His honest Friends, at thirsty hour of Dusk, <br> Come uninvited; he with bounteous Hand <br> Imparts his smoaking Vintage, sweet Reward <br> Of his own Industry; the well fraught Bowl <br> Circles incessant, whilst the humble Cell <br> With quavering Laugh, and rural Jests resounds. <br> Ease, and Content, and undissembled Love <br> Shine in each Face; the Thoughts of Labour past <br> Encrease their Joy. As, from retentive Cage <br> When sullen Philomel escapes, her Notes <br> She varies, and of past Imprisonment <br> Sweetly complains; her Liberty retriev'd <br> Cheers her sad Soul, improves her pleasing Song. <br> Gladsome they quaff, yet not exceed the Bounds <br> Of healthy Temp'rance, nor incroach on Night, <br> Season of Rest, but well bedew'd repair <br> Each to his Home, with unsupplanted Feet. <br> E'er Heav'n's emblazon'd by the Rosie Dawn <br> Domestic Cares awake them; brisk they rise, <br> Refresh'd, and lively with the Joys that flow <br> From amicable Talk, and moderate Cups <br> Sweetly' interchang'd. The pining Lover finds <br> Present Redress, and long Oblivion drinks <br> Of Coy Lucinda. Give the Debtor Wine; <br> His Joys are short, and few; yet when he drinks <br> His Dread retires, the flowing Glasses add <br> Courage, and Mirth: magnificent in Thought, <br> Imaginary Riches he enjoys, <br> And in the Goal expatiates unconfin'd. <br> Nor can the Poet Bacchus' Praise indite, <br> Debarr'd his Grape: The Muses still require <br> Humid Regalement, nor will aught avail <br> Imploring Phœbus, with unmoisten'd Lips. <br> Thus to the generous Bottle all incline, <br> By parching Thirst allur'd: With vehement Suns <br> When dusty Summer bakes the crumbling Clods, <br> How pleasant is't, beneath the twisted Arch <br> Of a retreating Bow'r, in Mid-day's Reign <br> To ply the sweet Carouse, remote from Noise, <br> Secur'd of fev'rish Heats! When th' aged Year <br> Inclines, and Boreas' Spirit blusters frore, <br> Beware th' inclement Heav'ns; now let thy Hearth <br> Crackle with juiceless Boughs; thy lingring Blood <br> Now instigate with th' Apples powerful Streams. <br> Perpetual Showers, and stormy Gusts confine <br> The willing Ploughman, and December warns <br> To Annual Jollities; now sportive Youth <br> Carol incondite Rhythms, with suiting Notes, <br> And quaver unharmonious; sturdy Swains <br> In clean Array, for rustic Dance prepare, <br> Mixt with the Buxom Damsels; hand in hand <br> They frisk, and bound, and various Mazes weave, <br> Shaking their brawny Limbs, with uncouth Mein, <br> Transported, and sometimes, an oblique Leer <br> Dart on their Loves, sometimes, an hasty Kiss <br> Steal from unwary Lasses; they with Scorn, <br> And Neck reclin'd, resent the ravish'd Bliss. <br> Mean while, blind British Bards with volant Touch <br> Traverse loquacious Strings, whose solemn Notes <br> Provoke to harmless Revels; these among, <br> A subtle Artist stands, in wondrous Bag <br> That bears imprison'd Winds, (of gentler sort <br> Than those, which erst Laertes Son enclos'd.) <br> Peaceful they sleep, but let the tuneful Squeeze <br> Of labouring Elbow rouse them, out they fly <br> Melodious, and with spritely Accents charm. <br> 'Midst these Disports, forget they not to drench <br> Themselves with bellying Goblets, nor when Spring <br> Returns, can they refuse to usher in <br> The fresh-born Year with loud Acclaim, and store <br> Of jovial Draughts, now, when the sappy Boughs <br> Attire themselves with Blooms, sweet Rudiments <br> Of future Harvest: When the Gnossian Crown <br> Leads on expected Autumn, and the Trees <br> Discharge their mellow Burthens, let them thank <br> Boon Nature, that thus annually supplies <br> Their Vaults, and with her former Liquid Gifts <br> Exhilerate their languid Minds, within <br> The Golden Mean confin'd: Beyond, there's naught <br> Of Health, or Pleasure. Therefore, when thy Heart <br> Dilates with fervent Joys, and eager Soul <br> Prompts to persue the sparkling Glass, be sure <br> 'Tis time to shun it; if thou wilt prolong <br> Dire Compotation, forthwith Reason quits <br> Her Empire to Confusion, and Misrule, <br> And vain Debates; then twenty Tongues at once <br> Conspire in senseless Jargon, naught is heard <br> But Din, and various Clamour, and mad Rant: <br> Distrust, and Jealousie to these succeed, <br> And anger-kindling Taunt, the certain Bane <br> Of well-knit Fellowship. Now horrid Frays <br> Commence, the brimming Glasses now are hurl'd <br> With dire Intent; Bottles with Bottles clash <br> In rude Encounter, round their Temples fly <br> The sharp-edg'd Fragments, down their batter'd Cheeks <br> Mixt Gore, and Cyder flow: What shall we say <br> Of rash Elpenor, who in evil Hour <br> Dry'd an immeasurable Bowl, and thought <br> T' exhale his Surfeit by irriguous Sleep, <br> Imprudent? Him, Death's Iron-Sleep opprest, <br> Descending careless from his Couch; the Fall <br> Luxt his Neck-joint, and spinal Marrow bruis'd. <br> Nor need we tell what anxious Cares attend <br> The turbulent Mirth of Wine; nor all the kinds <br> Of Maladies, that lead to Death's grim Cave, <br> Wrought by Intemperance, joint-racking Gout, <br> Intestine Stone, and pining Atrophy, <br> Chill, even when the Sun with July-Heats <br> Frys the scorch'd Soil, and Dropsy all a-float, <br> Yet craving Liquids: Nor the Centaurs Tale <br> Be here repeated; how with Lust, and Wine <br> Inflam'd, they fought, and spilt their drunken Souls <br> At feasting Hour. Ye Heav'nly Pow'rs, that guard <br> The British Isles, such dire Events remove <br> Far from fair Albion, nor let Civil Broils <br> Ferment from Social Cups: May we, remote <br> From the hoarse, brazen Sound of War, enjoy <br> Our humid Products, and with seemly Draughts <br> Enkindle Mirth, and Hospitable Love. <br> Too oft alas! has mutual Hatred drench'd <br> Our Swords in Native Blood, too oft has Pride, <br> And hellish Discord, and insatiate Thirst <br> Of other's Rights, our Quiet discompos'd. <br> Have we forgot, how fell Destruction rag'd <br> Wide-spreading, when by Eris' Torch incens'd <br> Our Fathers warr'd? What Hero's, signaliz'd <br> For Loyalty, and Prowess, met their Fate <br> Untimely, undeserv'd! How Bertie fell, <br> Compton, and Granvill, dauntless Sons of Mars, <br> Fit Themes of endless Grief, but that we view <br> Their Virtues yet surviving in their Race! <br> Can we forget, how the mad, headstrong Rout <br> Defy'd their Prince to Arms, nor made account <br> Of Faith, or Duty, or Allegiance sworn? <br> Apostate, Atheist Rebells! bent to Ill, <br> With seeming Sanctity, and cover'd Fraud, <br> Instill'd by him, who first presum'd t' oppose <br> Omnipotence; alike their Crime, th'Event <br> Was not alike; these triumph'd, and in height <br> Of barbarous Malice, and insulting Pride, <br> Abstain'd not from Imperial Bloud. O Fact <br> Unparallel'd! O Charles! O Best of Kings! <br> What Stars their black, disastrous Influence shed <br> On Thy Nativity, that Thou shou'dst fall <br> Thus, by inglorious Hands, in this Thy Realm, <br> Supreme, and Innocent, adjudg'd to Death <br> By those, Thy Mercy only wou'd have sav'd! <br> Yet was the Cyder-Land unstain'd with Guilt; <br> The Cyder-Land, obsequious still to Thrones, <br> Abhorr'd such base, disloyal Deeds, and all <br> Her Pruning-hooks extended into Swords, <br> Undaunted, to assert the trampled Rights <br> Of Monarchy; but, ah! successless She <br> However faithful! then was no Regard <br> Of Right, or Wrong. And this, once Happy, Land <br> By home-bred Fury rent, long groan'd beneath <br> Tyrannic Sway, 'till fair-revolving Years <br> Our exil'd Kings, and Liberty restor'd. <br> Now we exult, by mighty ANNA's Care <br> Secure at home, while She to foreign Realms <br> Sends forth her dreadful Legions, and restrains <br> The Rage of Kings: Here, nobly She supports <br> Justice oppress'd; here, Her victorious Arms <br> Quell the Ambitious: From Her Hand alone <br> All Europe fears Revenge, or hopes Redress. <br> Rejoice, O Albion! sever'd from the World <br> By Nature's wise Indulgence, indigent <br> Of nothing from without; in One Supreme <br> Intirely blest; and from beginning time <br> Design'd thus happy; but the fond Desire <br> Of Rule, and Grandeur, multiply'd a Race <br> Of Kings, and numerous Sceptres introduc'd, <br> Destructive of the public Weal: For now <br> Each Potentate, as wary Fear, or Strength, <br> Or Emulation urg'd, his Neighbour's Bounds <br> Invades, and ampler Territory seeks <br> With ruinous Assault; on every Plain <br> Host cop'd with Host, dire was the Din of War, <br> And ceaseless, or short Truce haply procur'd <br> By Havoc, and Dismay, 'till Jealousy <br> Rais'd new Combustion: Thus was Peace in vain <br> Sought for by Martial Deeds, and Conflict stern: <br> 'Till Edgar grateful (as to those who pine <br> A dismal half-Year Night, the orient Beam <br> Of Phœbus Lamp) arose, and into one <br> Cemented all the long-contending Pow'rs, <br> Pacific Monarch; then her lovely Head <br> Concord rear'd high, and all around diffus'd <br> The Spirit of Love; at Ease, the Bards new strung <br> Their silent Harps, and taught the Woods, and Vales, <br> In uncouth Rhythms, to echo Edgar's Name. <br> Then Gladness smil'd in every Eye; the Years <br> Ran smoothly on, productive of a Line <br> Of wise, Heroic Kings, that by just Laws <br> Establish'd Happiness at home, or crush'd <br> Insulting Enemies in farthest Climes. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> See Lyon-Hearted Richard, with his Force <br> Drawn from the North, to Jury's hallow'd Plains! <br> Piously valiant, (like a Torrent swell'd <br> With wintry Tempests, that disdains all Mounds, <br> Breaking a Way impetuous, and involves <br> Within its Sweep, Trees, Houses, Men) he press'd <br> Amidst the thickest Battel; and o'er-threw <br> What-e'er withstood his zealous Rage; no Pause, <br> No Stay of Slaughter, found his vigorous Arm, <br> But th' unbelieving Squadrons turn'd to Flight <br> Smote in the Rear, and with dishonest Wounds <br> Mangl'd behind: The Soldan, as he fled, <br> Oft call'd on Alla, gnashing with Despite, <br> And Shame, and murmur'd many an empty Curse. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Behold Third Edward's Streamers blazing high <br> On Gallia's hostile Ground! his Right witheld, <br> Awakens Vengeance; O imprudent Gauls, <br> Relying on false Hopes, thus to incense <br> The warlike English! one important Day <br> Shall teach you meaner Thoughts! Eager of Fight, <br> Fierce Brutus Off-spring to the adverse Front <br> Advance resistless, and their deep Array <br> With furious Inroad pierce; the mighty Force <br> Of Edward, twice o'erturn'd their desperate King, <br> Twice he arose, and join'd the horrid Shock: <br> The third time, with his wide-extended Wings, <br> He fugitive declin'd superior Strength, <br> Discomfited; persu'd, in the sad Chace <br> Ten Thousands ignominious fall; with Bloud <br> The Vallies float: Great Edward thus aveng'd, <br> With golden Iris his broad Shield emboss'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thrice glorious Prince! whom, Fame with all her Tongues <br> For ever shall resound. Yet from his Loins <br> New Authors of Dissention spring; from him <br> Two Branches, that in hosting long contend <br> For Sov'ran Sway; (and can such Anger dwell <br> In noblest Minds?) but little now avail'd <br> The Ties of Friendship; every Man, as lead <br> By Inclination, or vain Hope, repair'd <br> To either Camp, and breath'd immortal Hate, <br> And dire Revenge: Now horrid Slaughter reigns; <br> Sons against Fathers tilt the fatal Lance, <br> Careless of Duty, and their native Grounds <br> Distain with Kindred Blood, the twanging Bows <br> Send Showers of Shafts, that on their barbed Points <br> Alternate Ruin bear. Here might you see <br> Barons, and Peasants on th' embattled Field <br> Slain, or half dead, in one huge, ghastly Heap <br> Promiscuously amast: with dismal Groans, <br> And Ejulation, in the Pangs of Death <br> Some call for Aid, neglected; some o'erturn'd <br> In the fierce Shock, lye gasping, and expire, <br> Trampled by fiery Coursers; Horror thus, <br> And wild Uproar, and Desolation reign'd <br> Unrespited: Ah! who at length will end <br> This long, pernicious Fray? What Man has Fate <br> Reserv'd for this great Work? -- Hail, happy Prince <br> Of Tudor's Race, whom in the Womb of Time <br> Cadwallador foresaw! Thou, Thou art He, <br> Great Richmond Henry, that by nuptial Rites <br> Must close the Gates of Janus, and remove <br> Destructive Discord: Now no more the Drum <br> Provokes to Arms, or Trumpet's Clangor shrill <br> Affrights the Wives, or chills the Virgin's Bloud; <br> But Joy, and Pleasure open to the View <br> Uninterrupted! With presaging Skill <br> Thou to Thy own unitest Fergus' Line <br> By wise Alliance; from Thee James descends, <br> Heav'ns chosen Fav'rite, first Britannic King. <br> To him alone, Hereditary Right <br> Gave Power supreme; yet still some Seeds remain'd <br> Of Discontent; two Nations under One, <br> In Laws and Int'rest diverse, still persu'd <br> Peculiar Ends, on each Side resolute <br> To fly Conjunction; neither Fear, nor Hope, <br> Nor the sweet Prospect of a mutual Gain, <br> Cou'd ought avail, 'till prudent ANNA said <br> LET THERE BE UNION; strait with Reverence due <br> To Her Command, they willingly unite, <br> One in Affection, Laws, and Government, <br> Indissolubly firm; from Dubris South, <br> To Northern Orcades, Her long Domain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And now thus leagu'd by an eternal Bond, <br> What shall retard the Britons' bold Designs, <br> Or who sustain their Force; in Union knit, <br> Sufficient to withstand the Pow'rs combin'd <br> Of all this Globe? At this important Act <br> The Mauritanian and Cathaian Kings <br> Already tremble, and th' unbaptiz'd Turk <br> Dreads War from utmost Thule; uncontrol'd <br> The British Navy thro' the Ocean vast <br> Shall wave her double Cross, t' extreamest Climes <br> Terrific, and return with odorous Spoils <br> Of Araby well fraught, or Indus' Wealth, <br> Pearl, and Barbaric Gold; mean while the Swains <br> Shall unmolested reap, what Plenty strows <br> From well stor'd Horn, rich Grain, and timely Fruits. <br> The elder Year, Pomona, pleas'd, shall deck <br> With ruby-tinctur'd Births, whose liquid Store <br> Abundant, flowing in well blended Streams, <br> The Natives shall applaud; while glad they talk <br> Of baleful Ills, caus'd by Bellona's Wrath <br> In other Realms; where-e'er the British spread <br> Triumphant Banners, or their Fame has reach'd <br> Diffusive, to the utmost Bounds of this <br> Wide Universe, Silurian Cyder borne <br> Shall please all Tasts, and triumph o'er the Vine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Arthur+Phillips">John Arthur Phillips</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418932" data-title="Cyder: Book II de John Arthur Phillips" data-description="O Harcourt, Whom th' ingenuous Love of Arts Has carry'd from Thy native Soil, beyond Th' eternal Alpine Snows, and now detains In Italy's waste Realms, how long must we Lament Thy Absence? Whilst in sweet Sojourn Thou view'st the Relique..."></div> </div> </div>

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