Page:The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books.djvu/70

62 To you, ye delicate, I write; for you I tame my youth to philosophic cares, And grow still paler by the midnight lamps. Not to debilitate with timorous rules A hardy frame; nor needlesly to brave Unglorious dangers, proud of mortal strength; Is all the lesson that in wholsome years Concerns the strong. His care were ill bestow'd Who would with warm effeminacy nurse The thriving oak, which on the mountain's brow Bears all the blasts that sweep the wintry heav'n.
 * Behold the labourer of the glebe, who toils

In dust, in rain, in cold and sultry skies: Save but the grain from mildews and the flood. Nought anxious he what sickly stars ascend. He knows no laws by Esculapius given; He studies none. Yet him nor midnight fogs Rh