* "This my retreat, but only He "The heart of man what art can e'er reveal ? "A wall impervious between "Divides the very parts within, [ceal." "And doth the heart of man ev'n from itself con- And held this slippery Proteus in a chain, see, He the young practice of new life did The noble scarlet dye of blood; Before one drop was by it made, From all the souls that living buildings rear, What time, and what materials, it does need: He so exactly does the work survey, As if he hir'd the workers by the day. Thus Harvey sought for Truth in Truth's own book, The creatures-which by God himself was writ; And wisely thought 't was fit, Not to read comments only upon it, But on th' original itself to look. Methinks in Art's great circle others stand Lock'd-up together, hand in hand; Every one leads as he is led; The same bare path they tread, And dance, like fairies, a fantastick round, But neither change their motion nor their ground: Had Harvey to this road confin'd his wit, [yet. His noble circle of the blood had been untrodden Great Doctor! th'art of curing's cur'd by thee; We now thy patient, Physick, see From all inveterate diseases free, Purg'd of old errors by thy care, New dieted, put forth to clearer air; It now will strong and healthful prove; Itself before lethargick lay, and could not move! These useful secrets to his pen we owe! And thousands more 't was ready to bestow; O cruel loss! as if the golden fleece, With so much cost and labour bought, And from afar by a great hero brought, Had sunk ev'n in the ports of Greece. O cursed war! who can forgive thee this? Houses and towns may rise again; And ten times easier 't is To rebuild Paul's, than any work of his : Nay, scarce himself too, now; For, though his wit the force of age withstand, His body, alas! and time, it must command; And Nature now, so long by him surpass'd, Will sure have her revenge on him at last. 2 ODE, FROM CATULLUS. ACME and SEPTIMIUS. WHILST on Septimius' panting breast My dearest Acme, if I be All that e'er was called love; In a Libyan desert may Let him, Acme, let him tear The God of Love, who stood to hear him My little life, my all! (said she) To this best God, and ne'er retain So may thy passion last for me, As I a passion have for thee, Greater and fiercer much than can Be conceiv'd by thee a man! Into my marrow is it gone, It reigns not only in my heart, ་ This good omen thus from heaven Like a happy signal given, Their loves and lives (all four) embrace, And hand in hand run all the race. To poor Septimius (who did now The whole world's imperial throne; If the Gods would please to be I'd advise them, when they spy Any illustrious piety, To reward her, if it be she To reward him, if it be he With such a husband, such a wife; With Acme's and Septimius' life. |