These summer-birds did with thy master stay The times of warmth, but then they flew away, Leaving their poet, being now grown old, Expos'd to all the coming winter's cold. But thou, kind Prew, did'st with my fates abide As well the winter's as the summer's tide; For which thy love, live with thy master here, Not one, but all the seasons of the year. 388. A CANTICLE TO APOLLO. Play, Phœbus, on thy lute; And we will all sit mute, By listening to thy lyre, That sets all ears on fire. Hark, hark, the god does play! And as he leads the way Through heaven the very spheres, As men, turn all to ears. 389. A JUST MAN. A just man's like a rock that turns the wrath Of all the raging waves into a froth. 390. UPON A HOARSE SINGER. Sing me to death; for till thy voice be clear, 'Twill never please the palate of mine ear. 391. HOW PANSIES OR HEART'S-EASE CAME FIRST. Frolic virgins once these were, Over-loving, living here; Being here their ends denied, Ran for sweethearts mad, and died. Love, in pity of their tears, And their loss in blooming years, For their restless here-spent hours, Gave them heart's-ease turn'd to flowers. 392. TO HIS PECULIAR FRIEND, SIR EDWARD FISH, KNIGHT BARONET. Since, for thy full deserts, with all the rest Of these chaste spirits that are here possest Of life eternal, time has made thee one For growth in this my rich plantation, Live here; but know 'twas virtue, and not chance, That gave thee this so high inheritance. Keep it for ever, grounded with the good, Who hold fast here an endless livelihood. 393. LAR'S PORTION AND THE POET'S PART. At my homely country-seat I have there a little wheat, Which I work to meal, and make Therewithal a holy cake: Part of which I give to Lar, Part is my peculiar. _Peculiar_, his own property. 394. UPON MAN. Man is compos'd here of a twofold part: The first of nature, and the next of art: Art presupposes nature; nature she Prepares the way for man's docility. 395. LIBERTY. Those ills that mortal men endure So long, are capable of cure, As they of freedom may be sure; But, that denied, a grief, though small, Shakes the whole roof, or ruins all. 396. LOTS TO BE LIKED. Learn this of me, where'er thy lot doth fall, Short lot or not, to be content with all. 397. GRIEFS. Jove may afford us thousands of reliefs, Since man expos'd is to a world of griefs. 399. THE DREAM. By dream I saw one of the three Sisters of fate appear to me; Close to my bedside she did stand, Showing me there a firebrand; She told me too, as that did spend, So drew my life unto an end. Three quarters were consum'd of it; Only remained a little bit, Which will be burnt up by-and-by; Then, Julia, weep, for I must die.