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Where do we finer strokes and colours see
Of the Creator's real poetry,

Than when we with attention look
Upon the third day's volume of the book?
If we could open and intend our eye,

We all, like Moses, should espy
Ev'n in a bush the radiant Deity.
But we despise these his inferior ways
(Though no less full of miracle and praise):

Upon the flowers of heaven we gaze;
The stars of earth no wonder in us raise,

Though these perhaps do, more than they,

The life of mankind sway.
Although no part of mighty nature be
More stor'd with beauty, power, and mystery;
Yet, to encourage human industry,
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,
As when it grafts or buds the tree:
In other thing's we count it to excel,
If it a docile scholar can appear
To Nature, and but imitate her well;
It over-rules, and is her master, here.
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
O'er all the vegetable world command f

And the wild giants of the wood receive

What law he's pleas'd to give F He bids th' ill-natur'd crab produce The gentler apple's winy juice;

The golden fruit, that worthy is

Of Galatea's purple kiss:

He does the savage hawthorn teach

To bear the medlar and the pear:

He bids the rustick plum to rear

A noble trunk, and be a peach.

Ev'n Daphne's coyness he does mock,

And weds the cherry to her stock,

Though she refus'd Apollo's suit; , 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
In the Salonian garden's noble shade,
Which by his own imperial hands was made:
I see him smile, methinks, as he does talk
With the ambassadors, who come in vain

T* entice him to a throne again.
If I, my friends (said he), should to you show
All the delights which in these gardens grow,
'T is likelier much, that you should with me stay,
Than 't is, that you should carry me away:
And trust me not, my friends, if, every day,

I walk not here with more delight, Than ever, after the most happy fight, In triumph to the capitol I rode, To thank the gods, and to be thought, myself, almost a god.

VI.

OF GREATNESS.

SINCE we cannot attain to greatness (says the sieur de Montaigne), let us have our revenge by railing at it:" this he spoke but in jest. I believe he desired it no more than I do, and had less reason; for he enjoyed so plentiful and honourable a fortune in a most excellent country, as allowed him all the real conveniencies of it, separated and purged from the incommodities. If I were but in his condition, I should think it hard measure, without being convinced of any crime, to be sequestered from it, and made one of the principal officers of state. But the reader may think that what I now say is of small authority, because I never was, nor ever shall be, put to the trial .. I can therefore only make my protestation,

If ever I more riches did desire
Than cleanliness and quiet do require;
If e'er ambition did my fancy cheat,
With any wish so mean as to be great;
Continue, Heaven, still from me to remove
The humble blessings of that life I love.

I know very many men will despise, and some pity me, for this humour, as a poor-spirited fellow; but I am content, and, like Horace, thank God for being so.

Di bene fecerunt, inopis me quodque pusilli
Finxerunt animi *.

I confess, I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a very little feast; and, if I were ever to fall in love again (which is a great passion, and, therefore, I hope, I have done with it) it would be, I think, with prettiness, rather than with majestical beauty. I would neither wish that my mistress, nor my fortune, should be a bona roba, nor, as Homer uses to describe his beauties, like a daughter of great Jupiter for the stateliness and largeness of her person; but, as Lu» cretius says,

Parvula, pumilio, Xzprut pU, tota mcrum sal f.

* 1 Sat. iv. 17. f Lucr. iv. 1155.

VOL. III. »

Where there is one man of this, I believe there are a thousand of Senecio's mind, whose ridiculous affectation of grandeur Seneca the elder * describes to this effect: Senecio was a man of a turbid and confused wit, who could not endure to speak any but mighty words and sentences, till this humour grew at last into so notorious a habit, or rather disease, as became the sport of the whole town: he would have no servants, but huge, massy fellows; no plate or household-stuff, but thrice as big as the fashion : you may believe me, for I speak it without raillery, his extravagancy came at last into such a madness, that he would not put on a pair of shoes, each of which was not big enough for both his feet: he would eat nothing but what was great, nor touch any fruit but horse-plums and pound-pears: he kept a concubine that was a very giantess, and made her walk too always in chiopins, till, at last, he got the surname of Senecio Grandio, which, Messala said, was not his cognomen, but his cognomentum; when he declaimed for the three hundred Lacedaemonians, who alone opposed Xerxes's army of above three hundred thousand, he stretched out his arms, and stood on tiptoes, that he might appear the taller, and cried out, in a very loud voice; "I rejoice, I Tejoice."—We wondered, I remember, what new great fortune had befallen his eminence. "Xerxes (says he) is all mine own. He, who took away the sight of the sea, with the canvas veils of so many * Suaiotiarma Liber. Sins. 11.

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