The art of preserving health: A poemArmstrong, John
Philosophy
The art of preserving health: A poem
Armstrong, John
Health -- Early works to 1800; Health -- Poetry; Hygiene -- Early works to 1800; Hygiene -- Poetry
Should drown his labours in my friendly bowl;
And at my table find himself at home.
Whate’er you study, in whate’er you sweat,
Indulge your taste. Some love the manly foils;
The tennis some; and some the graceful dance. 160
Others, more hardy, range the purple heath,
Or naked stubble; where from field to field
The sounding coveys urge their labouring flight;
Eager amid the rising cloud to pour
The gun’s unerring thunder: And there are 165
Whom still the meed[6] of the green archer charms.
He chuses best, whose labour entertains
His vacant fancy most: The toil you hate
Fatigues you soon, and scarce improves your limbs.
As beauty still has blemish; and the mind 170
The most accomplish’d its imperfect side;
Few bodies are there of that happy mould
But some one part is weaker than the rest:
The legs, perhaps, or arms refuse their load,
Or the chest labours. These assiduously, 175
But gently, in their proper arts employ’d,
Acquire a vigor and elastic spring
To which they were not born. But weaker parts
Abhor fatigue and violent discipline.
Begin with gentle toils; and, as your nerves 180
Grow firm, to hardier by just steps aspire.
The prudent, even in every moderate walk,
At first but saunter; and by slow degrees
Increase their pace. This doctrine of the wise
Well knows the master of the flying steed. 185
First from the goal the manag’d coursers play
On bended reins; as yet the skilful youth
Repress their foamy pride; but every breath
The race grows warmer, and the tempest swells;
Till all the fiery mettle has its way, 190
And the thick thunder hurries o’er the plain.
When all at once from indolence to toil
You spring, the fibres by the hasty shock
Are tir’d and crack’d, before their unctuous coats,
Compress’d, can pour the lubricating balm. 195
Besides, collected in the passive veins,
The purple mass a sudden torrent rolls,
O’erpowers the heart, and deluges the lungs
With dangerous inundation: Oft the source
Of fatal woes; a cough that foams with blood, 200
Asthma, and feller Peripneumonie[7],
Or the slow minings of the hectic fire.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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