Several Poems, Poem 4
The four Seaſons of the Year.
Spring.
ANother four I've left yet to bring on,
Of four times four the laſt Quaternion,
The Winter, Summer, Autumn & the Spring,
In ſeaſon all theſe Seaſons I ſhall bring:
Sweet Spring like man in his Minority,
At preſent claim'd, and had priority.
With ſmiling face and garments ſomewhat green,
She trim'd her locks, which late had froſted been,
Nor hot nor cold, ſhe ſpake, but with a breath,
Fit to revive, the nummed earth from death.
Three months (quoth ſhe) are 'lotted to my ſhare
March, April, May of all the reſt moſt fair.
Tenth of the firſt, Sol into Aries enters,
And bids defiance to all tedious winters,
Croſſeth the Line, and equals night and day,
Stil adds to th' laſt til after pleaſant May
And now makes glad the darkned northern wights
Who for ſome months have ſeen but ſtarry lights.
Now goes the Plow-man to his merry toyle,
He might unlooſe his winter locked ſoyl:
The Seeds-man too, doth laviſh out his grain,
In hope the more he caſts, the more to gain:
The Gardner now ſuperfluous branches lops,
And poles erects for his young clambring hops.
Now digs then ſowes his herbs, his flowers & root…
And carefully manure his trees of fruits.
The Pl…ades their influence now give,
And all that ſeem'd as dead afreſh doth live.
The croaking frogs, whom nipping winter kil'd
Like birds now chirp, and hop about the field,
The Nightingale the black-bird and the …hruſh
Now tune their layes, on ſprayes of every buſh.
The wanton frisking Kid, and ſoft-fleec'd Lambs
Do jump and play before their feeding Dams,
The tender tops of budding graſs they crop,
They joy in what they have, but more in hope:
For though the froſt hath loſt his binding power,
Yet many a fleece of ſnow and ſtormy ſhower
Doth darken Sol's bright eye, makes us remember
The pinching North-weſt wind of cold December,
My ſecond monethmonth is April, green and fair,
Of longer dayes, and a more temperate Air:
The Sun in Taurus keeps his reſidence,
And with his warmer beams glanceth from thence
This is the month whoſe fruitful ſhowrs produces
All ſet and ſown for all delights and uſes:
The Pear the Plum, and Apple-tree now flouriſh
The graſs grows long the hungry beaſt to nouriſh.
The Primroſe pale, and azure violet
Among the vir…uous graſs hath nature ſet,
That when the Sun on's Love (the earth) doth ſhine
Theſe might as lace ſet out her garment fine.
The fearfull bird his little houſe now builds
In trees and walls, in Cities and in fields.
The outſide ſtrong, the inſide warm and neat;
A natural Artificer compleat.
The clocking hen her chirping chickins leads
With wings & beak defends them from the gleads
My next and laſt is fruitfull pleaſant May,
Wherein the earth is clad in rich aray,
The Sun now enters loving Gemini,
And heats us with the glances of his eye,
Our thicker rayment makes us lay aſide
Leſt by his fervor we be torrifi'd.
All flowers the Sun now with his beams diſcloſes,
Except the double pinks and matchleſs Roſes.
Now ſwarms the buſy, witty, honey-Bee,
VVhoſe praiſe deſerves a page from more then me
The cleanly Huſwifes Da…y's now in th' prime,
Her ſhelves and firkins fill'd for winter time.
The meads with Cowſlips, Honey-ſuckles dight,
One hangs his head, the other ſtands upright:
But both rejoyce at th' heavens clear ſmiling face,
More at her ſhowers, which water them a ſpace.
For fruits my Seaſon yields the early Cherry,
The haſty Peas, and wholſome cool Strawberry.
More ſolid fruits require a longer time,
Each Seaſon hath his fruit ſo hath each Clime:
Each man his own peculiar excellence,
But none in all that hath preheminence.
Sweet fragrant Spring, with thy ſhort pittance fly
Let ſome deſcribe thee better then can I.
Yet above all this priviledg is thine,
Thy dayes ſtill lengthen without leaſt decline.
Summer.
When Spring had done, the Summer did begin,
With melted tauny face, and garments thin,
Reſembling Fire, Choler, and Middle age,
As Spring did Air, Blood, Youth in's equipage.
Wiping the ſweat from of her face that ran,
With hair all wet ſhe puffing thus began;
Bright June, July and Auguſt hot are mi…e,
In'th firſt Sol doth in crabbed Cancer ſhine.
His progreſs to the North now's fully done,
Then retrograde muſt be my burning Sun,
Who to his ſouthward Tropick ſtill is bent,
Yet doth his parching heat but more augment
Though he decline, becauſe his flames ſo fair,
Have throughly dry'd the earth, and heat the air.
Like as an Oven that long time hath been heat,
Whoſe vehemency at length doth grow ſo great,
That if you do withdraw her burning ſtore,
Tis for a time as fervent as before.
Now go thoſe frolick Swains, the Shepherd Lads
To waſh the thick cloth'd flocks with pipes full glad
In the cool ſtreams they labour with delight
Rubbing their dirty coats till they look white:
Whoſe fleece when finely ſpun and deeply dy'd
With Robes thereof Kings have been dignifi'd.
Bleſt ruſtick Swains, your pleaſant quiet life,
Hath envy bred in Kings that were at ſtrife,
Careleſs of worldly wealth you ſing and pipe,
Whilſt they'r imbroyl'd in wars & troubles riſe:
VVhichWhich made great Bajazet cry out in's woes,
Oh happy ſhepherd which hath not to loſe.
Orthobulus, nor yet Sebaſtia great,
But whiſt'leth to thy flock in cold and heat.
Viewing the Sun by day, the Moon by night
Endimions, Dianaes dear delight,
Upon the graſs reſting your healthy limbs,
By purling Brooks looking how fiſhes ſwims.
If pride within your lowly Cells ere haunt,
Of him that was Shepherd then King go vaunt.
This monethmonth the Roſes are diſtil'd in glaſſes,
VVhoſe fragrant ſmel all made perfumes ſurpaſſes
The Cherry, Gooſeberry are now in th' prime,
And for all ſorts of Peaſe, this is the time.
July my next, the hott'ſt in all the year,
The ſun through Leo now takes his Career,
VVhoſe flaming breath doth melt us from afar,
Increaſed by the ſtar Canicular.
This Month from Julius Caeſar took its name,
By Romans celebrated to his fame.
Now go the Mowe…s to their ſlaſhing toyle,
The Meadowes of their riches to diſpoyle,
VVith weary ſtrokes, they take all in their way,
Bearing the burning …eat of the long day.
The forks and Rakes do follow them amain,
VVhichWhich makes the aged fields look young again.
The groaning Carts do bear away this prize.
To Stacks and Barns where it for Fodder lyes.
My next and laſt is Auguſt fiery hot
(For much, the Southward Sun abateth not)
This MonethMonth he keeps with Virgo for a ſpace,
The dryed Earth is parched with his face.
Auguſt of great Auguſtus took its name,
Romes ſecond Emperour of laſting fame,
With ſickles now the bending Reapers goe
The ruſſling treſs of terra down to mowe;
And bundles up in ſheaves, the weighty wheat,
Which after Manchet makes for Kings to eat:
The Barly, Rye and Peaſe ſhould firſt had place,
Although their bread have not ſo white a face.
The Carter leads all home with whiſtling voyce,
He plow'd with pain, but reaping doth rejoyce;
His ſweat, his toyle, his careful wakeful nights,
His fruitful Crop abundantly requites.
Now's ripe the Pear, Pear-plumb, and Apricock,
The prince of plumbs, whoſe ſtone's as hard as Rock
The Summer ſeems but ſhort, the Autumn haſts
To ſhake his fruits, of moſt delicious taſts
Like good old Age, whoſe younger juicy Roots
Hath ſtill aſcended, to bear goodly fruits.
Until his head be gray, and ſtrength be gone.
Yet then appears the worthy deeds he 'th done:
To feed his boughs exhauſted hath his ſap,
Then drops his fruits into the eaters lap.
Autumn.
Of Autumn moneths September is the prime,
Now day and night are equal in each Clime,
The twelfth of this Sol riſeth in the Line,
And doth in poizing Libra this month ſhine.
The vintage now is ripe, the grapes are preſt,
Whoſe lively liquor oft is curſ'd and bleſt:
For nought ſo good, but it may be abuſed,
But its a precious juice when well its uſed.
The raiſins now in cluſters dryed be,
The Orange, Lemon dangle on the tree:
The Pomegranate, the Fig are ripe alſo,
And Apples now their yellow ſides do ſhow.
Of Almonds, Quinces, Wardens, and of Peach,
The ſeaſon's now at hand of all and each.
Sure at this time, time firſt of all began,
And in this monethmonth was made apoſtate Man:
For then in Eden was not only ſeen,
Boughs full of leaves, or fruits unripe or green,
Or withered ſtocks, which were all dry and dead,
But trees with goodly fruits repleniſhed;
Which ſhews nor Summer Winter nor the Spring
Our Grand-Sire was of Paradice made King:
Nor could that temp'rate Clime ſuch difference make,
If ſcited as the moſt Judicious take.
October is my next, we hear in this
The Northern winter-blaſts begin to hiſs.
In Scorpio reſideth now the Sun,
And his declining heat is almoſt done.
The fruitleſs Trees all withered now do ſtand,
Whoſe ſapleſs yellow leavs, by winds are fan'd,
Which notes when youth and ſtrength have paſt their prime
Decrepit age muſt alſo have its time.
The Sap doth ſlily creep towards the Earth
There reſts, until the Sun give it a birth.
So doth old Age ſtill tend unto his grave,
Where alſo he his winter time muſt have;
But when the Sun of righteouſneſs draws nigh,
His dead old ſtock, ſhall mount again on high.
November is my laſt, for Time doth haſte,
We now of winters ſharpneſs 'gins to taſt.
This monethmonth the Sun's in Sagitarius.
So farre remote, his glances warm not us.
Almoſt at ſhorteſt is the horren'd day,
The Northern pole beholde…h not one ray.
Now Gre…nland, Groanland, Finland, Lapland, ſee
No Sun, to lighten their obſcurity:
Poor wretches that in total darkneſs lye,
With minds more dark then is the dark'ned Sky.
Beaf, Brawn and Pork are now in great requeſt,
And ſolid meats our ſtomacks can digeſt.
This time warm cloaths, full diet and good fires,
Our pinched fleſh, and hungry mawes requires:
Old, cold, dry Age and Earth Autumn reſembles,
And Melancholy which moſt of all diſſembles.
I muſt be ſhort, and ſhorts, the ſhort'ned day,
What winter hath to tell, now let him ſay.
Winter.
Cold, moiſt, young flegmy winter now doth lye
In ſwadling Clouts, like new born Infancy
Bound up with froſts, and furr'd with hail & ſnows,
And like an Infant, ſtill it taller grows;
December is my Firſt, and now the Sun
To th' Southward Tropick his ſwift race doth run:
This monethmonth he's hous'd in horned Capricorn.
From thence he 'gins to length the ſhortned morn,
Through Chriſtendome with great Feaſtivity,
Now's held; (but gheſt) for bleſt Nativity.
Cold frozen January next comes in,
Chilling the blood and ſhrinking up the skin;
In Aquarius now keeps the long wiſht Sun,
And Northward his unwearied Courſe doth run:
The day much longer then it was before,
The cold not leſſened, but augmented more.
Now Toes and Ears, and Fingers often freeze,
And Travellers their noſes ſometimes leeſe.
Moiſt ſnowie February is my laſt,
I care not how the winter time doth haſte,
In Piſces now the golden Sun doth ſhine.
And Northward ſtill approaches to the Line,
The Rivers 'gin to ope, the ſnows to melt,
And ſome warm glances from his face are felt,
Which is increaſed by the lengthen'd day,
Until by's heat, he drive all cold away,
And thus the year in Circle runneth round:
Where firſt it did begin, in th' end its found.
My Subjects bare, my Brain is bad,
Or better Lines you ſhould have had:
The firſt fell in ſo nat'rally,
I knew not how to paſs it by;
The laſt, though bad, I could not mend,
Accept therefore of what is pen'd,
And all the faults that you ſhall ſpy
Shall at your feet for pardon cry.