SYLVA 281 



Though gentle Zephyrus propitious proves, 



And welcome spring the rigid cold removes ; 



Haste not too soon this tender plant t' expose. 



Your gardens glory, the rash primrose, shows 



Delay is better ; since they oft are lost, 



By venturing too much into the frost. 



The cruel blasts which come from the north wind, 



To over-hasty flow'rs are still unkind. 



Let others' ills create this good in you, 



Without deliberation nothing do. 



For this will scarce the open air endure, 



Till by sufficient warmth it is secure. 



No tree your gardens, or your fountains more 



Adorns, than what th' Atlantick apples bore. 



A deathless beauty crowns its shining leaves, 



And to dark groves its flower lustre gives, 



Besides the splendour of its golden fruit, 



Of which the boughs are never destitute ; 



This gen'rous shrub in cases then dispose, 



Made of strong oak, these little woods compose ; 



Whose gilded fruits, and flow'rs which never fade, 



A grace to th' country and your garden add, 



Proud of the treasures nature has bestow'd. 



When snowy flow'rs the slender branches load, 



And straying nymphs to gather them prepare, 



Molest them not, but let your wife be there ; 



Your children, all your family employ, 



That so your house its orders may enjoy : 



That with sweet garlands all may shade their brows ; 



For in their flow'rs these plants their vigor lose. 



Suffer the nymphs to crop luxuriant trees, 



And with their fragrant wreaths themselves to please, 



Such soft delights they love ; then let them still 



With their fresh-gather'd fruit their bosoms fill. 



These apples Atalanta once betray'd ; 



They, and not love, o'recame the cruel maid. 



These were the golden balls which slack'd her pace, 



And made her lose the honour of the race. 



But these sweet smells and pleasant shades will cease, 

 Nor longer be your gardens happiness ; 

 Unless the hostile winter be represt, 



jj 



