But often in their journeys, as they fly, And in a fly such generous thoughts inspire. Though seven short springs conclude their vital date, And in an endless race their children's children reign. All in loud tumults and distractions rise; They waste their honey and their combs deface, Him all admire, all the great guardian own, And crowd about his courts, and buzz about his throne. Pursue a glorious death, in wounds and war. Some, from such instances as these, have taught, "The bees' extract is heavenly; for they thought The universe alive; and that a soul, Diffused throughout the matter of the whole, And ran through earth, and air, and sea, and all the deep of heaven; That this first kindled life in man and beast, Life, that again flows into this at last. That no compounded animal could die, But when dissolved, the spirit mounted high, Whene'er their balmy sweets you mean to seize, Spurt draughts of water from your mouth, and drive VOL. I. The bees are prone to rage, and often found To perish for revenge, and die upon the wound. Their venomed sting produces aching pains, And swells the flesh, and shoots among the veins, When first a cold hard winter's storms arrive, And threaten death or famine to their hive, If now their sinking state and low affairs Can move your pity, and provoke your cares, Fresh burning thyme before their cells convey, And cut their dry and husky wax away; For often lizards seize the luscious spoils, Or drones, that riot on another's toils: Oft broods of moths infest the hungry swarms, And oft the furious wasp their hive alarms With louder hums, and with unequal arms; Or else the spider at their entrance sets Her snares, and spins her bowels into nets. When sickness reigns, (for they as well as we Feel all the effects of frail mortality,) By certain marks the new disease is seen, Their colour changes, and their looks are thin; Their funeral rites are formed, and every bee With grief attends the sad solemnity; The few diseased survivors hang before Their sickly cells, and droop about the door, Or slowly in their hives their limbs unfold, Shrunk up with hunger, and benumbed with cold; In drawling hums the feeble insects grieve, And doleful buzzes echo through the hive, Like winds that softly murmur through the trees, Like flames pent up, or like retiring seas. Now lay fresh honey near their empty rooms, In troughs of hollow reeds, whilst frying gums Cast round a fragrant mist of spicy fumes. Thus kindly tempt the famished swarm to eat, And gently reconcile 'em to their meat. Mix juice of galls, and wine, that grow in time. Condensed by fire, and thicken to a slime; To these dried roses, thyme, and century join, And raisins, ripened on the Psythian vine. Besides, there grows a flower in marshy ground, Its name Amellus, easy to be found; A mighty spring works in its root, and cleaves The leaves inclining to a darker blue; The leaves shoot thick about the flower, and grow For where the Egyptians yearly see their bounds First then a close contracted space of ground, With straitened walls and low-built roof, they found; A narrow shelving light is next assigned To all the quarters, one to every wind; Through these the glancing rays obliquely pierce : All this is done, when first the western breeze No legs at first the insect's weight sustain, At length it moves its new-made limbs with pain; Full Now bending thighs and gilded wings it wears and all the bee at length appears ; From every side the fruitful carcass pours grown, Its swarming brood, as thick as summer showers, The frighted Indians with his thunder awed, 1 A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY AT OXFORD.' I. CECILIA, whose exalted hymns With joy and wonder fill the blest, Known and distinguished from the rest, The success of Alexander's Feast made it fashionable for succeeding poets to try their hand at a musical ode; but they mistook the matter, wher they thought it enough to contend with Mr. Dryden.-It was reserved for one or two of our days to give us a true idea of lyric poetry in English. Attend, harmonious saint, and see Attend, harmonious saint, and hear our prayers; And, as thou sing'st thy God, teach us to sing of thee: Be thou the muse and subject of our song. II. Let all Cecilia's praise proclaim, Hark how the flutes and trumpets raise, The sound of every trembling string, III. For ever consecrate the day, To music and Cecilia; Music, the greatest good that mortals know, Music can noble hints impart, With unsuspected eloquence can move, The wolf and lamb around him trip, The moving woods attended, as he played, IV. Music religious heats inspires, |