Whither, mad maiden, wilt thou roam? Far safer 'twere to stay at home, Where thou mayst sit and piping please The poor and private cottages, Since cotes and hamlets best agree With this thy meaner minstrelsy. There with the reed thou mayst express The shepherd's fleecy happiness, And with thy eclogues intermix Some smooth and harmless bucolics. There on a hillock thou mayst sing Unto a handsome shepherdling, Or to a girl, that keeps the neat, With breath more sweet than violet. There, there, perhaps, such lines as these May take the simple villages; But for the court, the country wit Is despicable unto it. Stay, then, at home, and do not go Or fly abroad to seek for woe. Contempts in courts and cities dwell, No critic haunts the poor man's cell, Where thou mayst hear thine own lines read By no one tongue there censured. That man's unwise will search for ill, And may prevent it, sitting still. 3. TO HIS BOOK. While thou didst keep thy candour undefil'd, Dearly I lov'd thee as my first-born child, But when I saw thee wantonly to roam From house to house, and never stay at home, I brake my bonds of love, and bade thee go, Regardless whether well thou sped'st or no. On with thy fortunes then, whate'er they be: If good, I'll smile; if bad, I'll sigh for thee. 4. ANOTHER. To read my book the virgin shy May blush while Brutus standeth by, But when he's gone, read through what's writ, And never stain a cheek for it. _Brutus_, see Martial, xi. 16, quoted in Note at the end of the volume. 7. TO HIS BOOK. Come thou not near those men who are like bread O'er-leaven'd, or like cheese o'er-renneted. 8. WHEN HE WOULD HAVE HIS VERSES READ. In sober mornings, do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse; But when that men have both well drunk and fed, Let my enchantments then be sung or read. When laurel spirts i'th' fire, and when the hearth Smiles to itself, and gilds the roof with mirth; When up the thyrse[C] is rais'd, and when the sound Of sacred orgies[D] flies, a round, a round. When the rose reigns, and locks with ointments shine, Let rigid Cato read these lines of mine. _Round_, a rustic dance. _Cato_, see Martial, x. 17, quoted in Note. [C] "A javelin twined with ivy" (Note in the original edition). [D] "Songs to Bacchus" (Note in the original edition.) 9. UPON JULIA'S RECOVERY. Droop, droop no more, or hang the head, Ye roses almost withered; Now strength and newer purple get, Each here declining violet. O primroses! let this day be A resurrection unto ye; And to all flowers ally'd in blood, Or sworn to that sweet sisterhood: For health on Julia's cheek hath shed Claret and cream commingled; And those her lips do now appear As beams of coral, but more clear.