Medulla Poetarum Romanorum - Vol. Ii. (Trees - Virginity) Poem by Henry Baker

Trees.
See Harmony. Place (Pleasant.)

First, Trees by various Propagation grow:
(So Nature has ordain'd: for some unforc'd
By human Industry, spontaneous rise,
In Fields abroad, and shade the winding Streams:
As the soft Sallow, and the flexile Broom,
The Poplar, and grey Willow. Some from Seed:
The lofty Chesnut, and Jove's spreading Esculus,
Supreme of Woods: and Oaks, by Greece esteem'd
Oracular. A num'rous leafy Race
Springs from the Roots of Others: as the Elm,
And Cherry: Thus too sprouts the infant Bay
(Parnassus--born, and by the Muses lov'd,)
Beneath its Parent's more diffusive Shade.

From Trunks the Olive, from the Arch the Vine
More happy answers: From the solid Stock
The Paphian Myrtle: From the Layer's Slip
The hardy Hazle springs, and the tall Ash:
The shady Tree which binds Alcides' Brows:
Jove's Dodonaean Oak: the lofty Palm,
And Pine for future Storms at Sea reserv'd.--

--Willows grow
Near Rivers: Alders, in the marshy Lakes:
Barren Wild--Ashes, on the rocky Hills:
The Shores rejoyce in Myrtles: Bacchus loves
The open Mountains: Eughs, the North, and Cold.

--By its proper Trees
Each Country is distinguish'd. India sole
Bears Ebony: Sabaea, Incence sweet.
Media the happy Citron bears, of Juice
Pungent, of Taste that dwells upon the Tongue:
Than this no Aid more present (when, in Rage
Of Jealousy, Step--Dames have Draughts infus'd,
And mingled Herbs, and Incantations dire,)
T' expel black Poysons from infected Limbs.
Large is the Tree, and like a Lawrel grows:
And, did it not a diff'rent Scent diffuse,
A Lawrel it would be: no Winds its Leaves
Unfix: Its Blossoms most tenacious grow:
The Medes with this foment their Mouths, correct
Their smelling Breath, and wheezing Sires relieve.--

How pleasing to the Sight Cytorus looks,
Flowing in gentle Waves of livid Box!
How soft! how solemn is Naricia's Shade!
Where pitchy Groves the gloomy Skies invade.--

Tall Pines for Vessels: for the stately Room
Cypress, and Cedar, with its strong Perfume:
The binding Osier shoots a num'rous Brood:
And Elms for Cattle yield a leafy Food:
For Spears, the Myrtle, and the Cornel grows,
And Parthians bend the Eugh--Tree into Bows.
Nor will the smooth--grain'd Lime, or Box disdain
The rounding Chissel, or the hollowing Plane:
Or the light Alder dread th'impetuous Tide,
But lightly skim the Po, and on its Surges ride.--

To Hercules the Poplar is most dear:
The Vine to Bacchus: To the Cyprian Dame
The Myrtle: To Apollo his own Bay.--

In Groves the Beach, in Gardens is the Pine
Most beautiful: The Poplar near the Streams:
On the high Mountains Tops the stately Fir.--


Trophy.

--Æneas plants upon a Hill
An Oak of mighty Bulk, on ev'ry Side
Shorn off its Boughs: and all with shining Arms,
The Spoils of King Mezentius, clothes the Trunk:
A Trophy rais'd, great Warrior God, to Thee.
He fits the bloody Crest, and broken Darts,
And plated Corslet with twelve Wounds transfix'd:
On the left Side the brazen Buckler hangs,
And from the Neck his iv'ry--hilted Sword.--


Tyrant.
See King.

--The Nation flourish'd long,
In Pride of Wealth, and warlike People strong.
Till curs'd Mezentius, in a fatal Hour,
Assum'd the Crown with arbitrary Pow'r.
What Words can paint those execrable Times,
The Subject's Suff'rings, and the Tyrant's Crimes.!
That Blood, those Murders, O, ye Gods, replace
On his own Head, and on his impious Race!
The Living and the Dead, at his Command,
Were coupled, Face to Face, and Hand to Hand:
Till choak'd with Stench, in loath'd Embraces ty'd,
The ling'ring Wretches pin'd away, and dy'd.
Thus plung'd in Ills, and meditating more,
The People's Patience tir'd, no longer bore
The raging Monster: But with Arms beset
His House, and Vengeance, and Destruction threat.
They fire his Palace: While the Flame ascends,
They force his Guards: and execute his Friends.
He cleaves the Crowd: and favour'd by the Night,
To Turnus' friendly Court directs his Flight.--

A Sacrifice which pleases Jove much more
Than all the Victims at his Altar slain,
Is an unjust, oppressive Tyrant--King.--

Great Father of the Gods, when for our Crimes,
Thou send'st some heavy Judgment on the Times:
Some Tyrant--King, the Terror of his Age,
The Type, and true Vicegerent of thy Rage:
Thus punish him:--Set Virtue in his Sight,
With all her Charms adorn'd, with all her Graces bright:
But set her distant, make him pale to see
His Gains out--weigh'd by lost Felicity.
Sicilian Tortures, and the brazen Bull
Are Emblems, rather than express the full
Of what he feels: Yet what he fears is more.--

Down to the Grave, but seldom, sink in Peace
Oppressive Kings, escaping Wounds and Murder:
Tyrants but rarely die a bloodless Death--


Void.

But Matter does not fill up ev'ry Place:
For besides that, there is an empty Space,
A VOID.--

A VOID is Space intangible: thus prov'd:
For were there none, no Body could be mov'd:
Because where--e'er the pressing Motion goes,
It still must meet with Stops, still meet with Foes:
'Tis natural for Matter to oppose.
So, that to move would be in vain to try,
For motionless and stubborn all must lie:
Because no yielding Body could be found,
Which first should move, and give the other Ground.

Tho' free from Pores, tho' Solid, Things appear,
Yet many Reasons prove them to be rare.
For Drops distil, and trickling Moisture creeps
Thro' hardest Rocks, and ev'ry Marble weeps.
Sounds pass thro' well clos'd Rooms and hardest Stones,
And Winter's rig'rous Frost pervades our Bones:
Which could not be, were there no empty Space,
Thro' which the subtle Parts of Matter pass.

Besides, why have not Bodies equal Weight
With others, which in Bulk are but as great?
Did the same Quantity of Matter frame
Both Wool and Lead, their Weight must be the same.
Since ev'ry Part of Matter downward tends,
By Nature heavy: but no Void descends.
Wherefore those lighter Things of equal Size,
Do less of Matter, more of Void comprize.--


Variety.

I would not always the same Odours prove,
Nor satiate with one sort of Wine my Taste.
From Mead, to Mead, the Bull delights to rove,

And the wild Beast to vary his Repast.
Ev'n Day itself would yield Us less Delight,
But for the sweet Vicissitude of Night.--


Vengeance Divine.
See Pride.

Ah! why d'ye tare me from myself? he cry'd:
While from his Limbs Apollo flay'd his Hide.
One Wound, and raw all o'er, the Suff'rer stood:
From ev'ry Part pour'd out the purple Flood:
The trembling Veins their beating Pulse disclos'd:
The stringy Nerves lay naked and expos'd:
His working Bowels plain one might behold,
And ev'ry Fibre in his Breast have told.--

The blasphemous Propoetides deny'd
To worship Venus, and her Pow'r defy'd:
But soon that Pow'r they felt; the first that sold
Their lewd Embraces to the World for Gold.
Unknowing how to blush, and shameless grown,
A small Transition changes them to Stone.--

-- She with audacious Pride,
Vain of her own, Diana's Charms decry'd.
Her Taunts the Goddess with Resentment fill:
My Face You like not, You shall try my Skill,
She said; and strait her vengeful Bow she strung,
And sent a Shaft that pierced her guilty Tongue:
The bleeding Tongue in vain it's Accents tries;
With the red Stream her Soul reluctant flies.--


Venus.

Delight of Human Kind, and Gods above,
Parent of Rome, propitious Queen of Love!
Whose vital Pow'r, Air, Earth, and Sea, supplies:
And breeds whate'er is born beneath the rolling Skies.
For ev'ry Kind, by thy prolific Might,
Springs, and beholds the Regions of the Light.
Thee, Goddess! Thee, the Clouds and Tempests fear,
And at thy pleasing Presence disappear:
For Thee the Land in fragrant Flow'rs is drest,
For Thee the Ocean smiles, and smooths her wavy Breast,
And Heav'n itself with more serene and purer Light is blest.
For when the rising Spring adorns the Mead,
And a new Scene of Nature stands display'd,
When teeming Birds, and chearful Greens appear,
And western Gales unlock the lazy Year,
The joyous Birds thy Welcome first express,
Whose native Songs thy genial Pow'r confess:
Then savage Beasts bound o'er their slighted Food,
Struck with thy Darts, and tempt the raging Flood.
All Nature is thy Gift, Earth, Air, and Sea;
Of All that breathes the various Progeny,
Stung with Delight, is goaded on by Thee.
O'er barren Mountains, o'er the flow'ry Plain,
The leafy Forests, and the liquid Main,
Extends thy uncontroul'd and boundless Reign.
Thro' all the living Regions Thou dost move,
And scatter'st, where Thou go'st, the kindly Seeds of Love.--

She said: And, as she turn'd, her rosy Neck
Shone bright: Her Hair a Fragancy divine
Ambrosial breath'd: Down flows her waving Robe,
And by her Walk the Goddess moves confess'd.--

But Venus, as they went, around them threw
A cloudy Mantle, made of Air condens'd:
Herself to Paphos goes sublime, and pleas'd
Visits her Seat: where sacred to her stands
A Temple: With Sabaean Incense smoke
An hundred Altars, and fresh Garlands breath.--

-- Venus went;--
In circling Rounds her braided Hair was dress'd,
Whose curious Order heav'nly Skill express'd:
Her purple Robes a sparkling Buckle bound,
Her Husband's Gift, and held them from the Ground.--


Vice.

No Age can go beyond Us: future Times
Can add no farther to the present Crimes:
Our Sons but the same things can wish and do:
Vice is at stand, and at the highest Flow.--

Well, art Thou really freed from Avarice?
But what avails it, if some other Vice
Be suffer'd to bear sway?--Say, art Thou free
From Pride, and empty Popularity?
Art free from raging Anger, and the Fear
Of certain Death, that dreadful Messenger?
Canst laugh at all the idle fond Conceits
Of Sprights, Dreams, Omens, all those vulgar Cheats?
Art thankful for thy Age that's past and gone?
And being older art Thou wiser grown?
For, as it cannot much abate thy Pain
To draw one Thorn, while twenty more remain:
To hate one Vice is nothing, whilst the Mind
Indulges Vices of another Kind.--

The worthiest Breasts by Teaching are refin'd,
And virtuous Precepts fortify the Mind:
But Vice is sure to tarnish, and disgrace,
The Fame, and Glory, of the noblest Race.--


Victory.

Shall Victory, intreated, lend her Aid,
For Cakes of Flour on smoaking Altars laid?
Her Help from Toils and Watchings hope to find,
From the strong Body, and undaunted Mind:
If these be wanting on the embattel'd Plain,
Ye sue the unpropitious Maid in vain
Shall the rough Soldier of himself despair,
And hope for female Visions in the Air?
What Legion sheath'd in Iron e'er survey'd,
Their Darts directed by this winged Maid?
Dost thou the Power that gives Success demand?
'Tis He th' Almighty, and thy own right Hand.--


Virginity.

By many Suitors sought, she mocks their Pains,
And still her vow'd Virginity maintains.
Impatient of a Yoke, the Name of Bride
She shuns, and hates the Joys she never try'd.
On Wilds, and Woods, she fixes her Desire,
Nor knows what Youth, and kindly Love inspire.
Her Father chides her oft: Thou ow'st, says he,
A Husband to thy self, a Son to me.
She, like a Crime, abhors the Nuptial Bed,
She glows with Blushes, and she hangs her Head:
Then casting round his Neck her tender Arms,
Sooths him with Blandishments, and filial Charms
Give me, my Lord, she said, to live, and die,
A spotless Maid, without the Marriage Tye:
'Tis but a small Request: I beg no more
Then what Diana's Father gave before.
The good old Sire was soften'd to consent,
But said, her Wish would prove her Punishment:
For so much Youth and so much Beauty join'd,
Oppos'd the State, which her Desires design'd.--