grove,
But never when the North's cold wind
The russet fields with frost doth bind.
If in the spring-time--to no end--
The tender vine for grapes we bend,
We shall find none, for only--still--
Autumn doth the wine-press fill.
Thus for all things--in the world's prime--
The wise God seal'd their proper time,
Nor will permit those seasons, He
Ordain'd by turns, should mingled be;
Then whose wild actions out of season
Cross to Nature, and her reason,
Would by new ways old orders rend,
Shall never find a happy end.

METRUM VII.

Curtain'd with clouds in a dark night,
The stars cannot send forth their light.
And if a sudden southern blast
The sea in rolling waves doth cast,
That angry element doth boil,
And from the deep with stormy coil
Spews up the sands, which in short space
Scatter, and puddle his curl'd face.
Then those calm waters, which but now
Stood clear as heaven's unclouded brow,
And like transparent glass did lie
Open to ev'ry searcher's eye,
Look foully stirr'd and--though desir'd--
Resist the sight, because bemir'd.
So often from a high hill's brow
Some pilgrim-spring is seen to flow,
And in a straight line keep her course,
'Till from a rock with headlong force
Some broken piece blocks up the way,
And forceth all her streams astray.
Then thou that with enlighten'd rays
Wouldst see the truth, and in her ways
Keep without error; neither fear
The future, nor too much give ear
To present joys; and give no scope
To grief, nor much to flatt'ring hope.
For when these rebels reign, the mind
Is both a pris'ner, and stark blind.

LIB. II. METRUM I.

Fortune--when with rash hands she quite turmoils
The state of things, and in tempestuous foils
Comes whirling like Euripus--beats quite down
With headlong force the highest monarch's crown,
And in his place, unto the throne doth fetch
The despis'd looks of some mechanic wretch:
So jests at tears and miseries, is proud,
And laughs to hear her vassals groan aloud.
These are her sports, thus she her wheel doth drive,
And plagues man with her blind prerogative;
Nor is't a favour of inferior strain,
If once kick'd down, she lets him rise again.

METRUM II.

If with an open, bounteous hand
--Wholly