198. IMPOSSIBILITIES TO HIS FRIEND. My faithful friend, if you can see The fruit to grow up, or the tree; If you can see the colour come Into the blushing pear or plum; If you can see the water grow To cakes of ice or flakes of snow; If you can see that drop of rain Lost in the wild sea once again; If you can see how dreams do creep Into the brain by easy sleep: Then there is hope that you may see Her love me once who now hates me. 201. TO LIVE MERRILY AND TO TRUST TO GOOD VERSES. Now is the time for mirth, Nor cheek or tongue be dumb; For, with the flowery earth, The golden pomp is come. The golden pomp is come; For now each tree does wear. Made of her pap and gum, Rich beads of amber here. Now reigns the rose, and now Th' Arabian dew besmears My uncontrolled brow And my retorted hairs. Homer, this health to thee, In sack of such a kind That it would make thee see Though thou wert ne'er so blind. Next, Virgil I'll call forth To pledge this second health In wine, whose each cup's worth An Indian commonwealth. A goblet next I'll drink To Ovid, and suppose, Made he the pledge, he'd think The world had all one nose. Then this immensive cup Of aromatic wine, Catullus, I quaff up To that terse muse of thine. Wild I am now with heat: O Bacchus, cool thy rays! Or, frantic, I shall eat Thy thyrse and bite the bays. Round, round the roof does run, And, being ravish'd thus, Come, I will drink a tun To my Propertius. Now, to Tibullus, next, This flood I drink to thee: But stay, I see a text That this presents to me. Behold, Tibullus lies Here burnt, whose small return Of ashes scarce suffice To fill a little urn. Trust to good verses then; They only will aspire When pyramids, as men, Are lost i' th' funeral fire. And when all bodies meet In Lethe to be drown'd, Then only numbers sweet With endless life are crown'd. _Retorted_, bound back, "retorto crine," _Martial_. _Immensive_, measureless. 202. FAIR DAYS: OR, DAWNS DECEITFUL. Fair was the dawn, and but e'en now the skies Show'd like to cream inspir'd with strawberries, But on a sudden all was chang'd and gone That smil'd in that first sweet complexion. Then thunder-claps and lightning did conspire To tear the world, or set it all on fire. What trust to things below, whenas we see, As men, the heavens have their hypocrisy? 203. LIPS TONGUELESS.