Out Of Virgil.[62]

All trees, all leavy groves confesse the Spring Their gentlest friend; then, then the lands begin To swell with forward pride, and feed desire To generation; Heaven's Almighty Sire Melts on the bosome of His love, and powres Himselfe into her lap in fruitfull showers. And by a soft insinuation, mixt With Earth's large masse, doth cherish and assist Her weake conceptions. No lone shade but rings With chatring birds' delicious murmurings; Then Venus' mild instinct (at set times) yields The herds to kindly meetings, then the fields (Quick with warme Zephyre's lively breath) lay forth Their pregnant bosomes in a fragrant birth. Each body's plump and jucy, all things full Of supple moisture: no coy twig but will Trust his beloved blossome to the sun (Growne lusty now): no vine so weake and young That feares the foule-mouth'd Auster or those stormes That the Southwest-wind hurries in his armes, But hasts her forward blossomes, and layes out Freely layes out her leaves: nor doe I doubt But when the world first out of chaos sprang So smil'd the dayes, and so the tenor ran Of their felicity. A Spring was there, An everlasting Spring, the jolly yeare Led round in his great circle; no wind's breath As then did smell of Winter or of Death. When Life's sweet light first shone on beasts, and when From their hard mother Earth, sprang hardy men, When beasts tooke up their lodging in the Wood, Starres in their higher chambers: never cou'd The tender growth of things endure the sence Of such a change, but that the Heav'ns indulgence Kindly supplyes sick Nature, and doth mold A sweetly-temper'd meane, nor hot nor cold.