Ev'n how to ripen the half-labour'd blood : But to unlock the elemental tubes, Collaps'd and fhrunk with long inanity, And with ballamic nutriment repair The dried and worn-out habit, were to bid Old age grow green, and wear a fecond fpring; Or the tall afh, long ravish'd from the foil, Thro' wither'd veins i...bibe the vernal dew. When hunger calls, obey; nor often wait Till hunger fharpen to corrofive pain : For the keen appetite will feaft beyond What nature well can bear; and one extreme Ne'er without danger meets its own reverse. Too greedily th' exhaufted veins abforb The recent chyle, and load cafecbled pow'rs Oft to the extinction of the vital flame. To the pale cities, by the firm-fet fiege And famine humbled, may this verle be borne. And hear, ve bardicft fons that Albion breeds ! Long tots'd and famih'd on the wint'ry main; The war fhook off, or hofpitable thore Attain'd, with temp'rance bear the fhock of joy; Nor crown with feitive rites th' aufpicious day: Such feafts might prove more fatal than the waves, Than war or famine. While the vital fire Burns feebly, heap not the green fuel on; But prudently foment the wand'ring spark With what the foonest feels its kindred touch: Be frugal e'en of that; a little give At firft; that kindled, add a little more; Till, by delib'rate nourishing, the flame Reviv'd with all its wonted vigour glows.
But tho' the two (the full and the jejune) Extremes have each their vice; it much avails Ever with gentle tide to ebb and flow From this to that: fo nature learns to bear Whatever chance or headlong appetite May bring. Beides, a meagre day fubdues The cruder clods by floth or luxury Collected, and unloads the wheels of life. Sometimes a coy averfion to the fealt Comes on, while yet no blacker omen low'rs; Then is a time to fhun the tempting board, Were it your natal or your nuptial day. Perhaps a faft to feafonable ftarves The latent feeds of woe, which rooted once Might coft you labour. But, the day return'd Of feftal luxury, the wife indulge Moft in the tender vegetable breed: Then chiefly when the fummer beams inflame The brazen heavens, or angry Sirius sheds A fev'rish taint thro' the ftill gulph of air, The moist cool viands then, and flowing cup From the fresh dairy-virgin's lib'ral hand, Will fave your head from harm, tho' round
Influenc'd by both; a middle regimen Impofe. Thro' autumn's languishing domain Defcending, nature by degrees invites To glowing luxury. But from the depth Of winter when th' invigorating year Emerges; when Favonius, fiush'd with love, Toyful and young, in ev'ry breeze defcends More warm and wanton on his kindling bride; Then, fhepherds, then begin to fpare your flocks; And learn, with wife humanity, to check The luft of blood. Now pregnant earth commits A various offspring to th' indulgent fky: Now bounteous nature feeds with lavish hand The prone creation; yields what once fuffic'd Their dainty fov'reign, when the world was young,
Ere yet the barb'rous thirft of blood had feiz'd The human breaft. Each rolling month matures The food that fuits it moft; fo does each clime. Far in the horrid realms of winter, where Th' eftablish'd occan heaps a monftrous wafte Of shining rocks and mountains to the pole, There lives a hardy race, whofe plaineft wants Relentlefs earth, their crucl ftep-mother, Regards not. On the wafte of iron fields, Untam'd, intractable, no harvests wave; Pomona hates them, and the clownith god Who tends the garden. In this frozen world Such cooling gifts were vain: a fitter meal Is carn'd with eafe; for here the fruitful spawn Of Ocean fwarms, and heaps their genial board With gen'rous fare and luxury profufe. Thefe are their bread, the only bread they know; Thefe, and their willing flave, the deer, that crops The flirubby herbage on their meagre hills. Girt by the burning zone, not thus the South Her fwarthy fons in cither Ind maintains ; Or thirty Libya, from whofe fervid loins The lion burfts, and ev'ry fiend that roams Th' affrighted wildernefs. The mountain herd, Aduft and dry, no fweet repaft affords; Nor does the tepid main fuch kinds produce, So perfect, fo delicious, as the fhoals
Of icy Zembla. Rafhly where the blood [tain Brews feverish frays; where fcarce the tubes fuf- Its tumid fervour and tempeftuous course, Kind Nature tempts not to fuch gifts as these. But here in livid ripenefs melts the grape; Here, finifh'd by invigorating funs, Thro' the green fhade the golden orange glows; Spontaneous here the turgid melon yields A gen'rous pulp; the coco fwells on high With milky riches; and in horrid mail The crifp ananas wraps its poignant fweets: the Earth's vaunted progeny; in ruder air
The dreaded Caufos roll his wafteful fires. Pale humid Winter loves the gen'rous board, The meal more copious, and a warmer fare; And longs with old wood and old wine to cheer His quaking heart. The feafons which divide Th' empires of heat and cold; by neither claim'd,
Too coy to flourish, ev'n too proud to live, Or hardly rais'd by artificial fire To vapid life. Here, with a mother's finile, Glad Amalthea pours a copious horn : He e buxom Ceres reigns: th' autumnal fea In boundlefs billows fluctuates o'er their plains. What fuits the climate beft, what fuits the men, The Burning Fever.
Nature profufes moft, and moft the taste Demands: The fountain, edg'd with racy wine Or acid fruit, bedews their thirsty fouls. The breeze eternal breathing round their limbs Supports in elfe intolerable air;
While the cool palm, the lantai, and the grove That waves on gloomy Lelanon, affuage The tornid heil that beans upon thei: heads. Now come, ye Naiads, to the fountains lead; Now let me wander thr your gelid reign. I burn to view th' enthufiaftic wilds By mortal elfe untrod. I hear the din Of waters thund'ring o'er the ruin'd cliffs. With holy rev'rence I approach the rocks Whence glide the ft. cams renown'din ancientfong. Here from the defert down the rumbling steep Firft fprings the Nile; here buits the founding Po In angry waves; Euphrates hence devolves A mighty flood to water half the caft; And there, in Gothic folitude reclin'd, The cheerlofs Tanais pours his hoary urn. What folemn twilight, what ftupendous fhades, Enwrap thefe infant floods! Tho' ev'ry nerve A facred horror thrills, a pleafing fear Glides o'er my frame. The foreft deepens round, And, more gigantic ftill, th' impending trees Stretch their extravagant arms athwart the gloom. Are thefe the confines of fome fairy world, A land of Genii? Say, beyond thefe wilds What unknown nations, if indeed beyond Aught habitable lies? And whither leads, To what strange regions, or of blifs or pain, That fubterraneous way? Propitious maids, Conduct me, while with fearful steps I tread This trembling ground. The task remains to fing Your gifts (fo Paon, fo the pow'rs of health Command), to praise your crystal element: The chief ingredient in Heaven's various works; Whofe flexile genius fparkles in the gem, Grows firm in oak, and fugitive in wine; The vehicle, the fource, of nutriment And life to all that vegetate or live.
O comfortable streams! With eager lips, And trembling hand, the languid thirsty quaff New life in you: freth vigour fills their veins. No warmer cups the rural ages knew; None warmer fought the fires of human kind Happy in temperate peace! Their equal days Felt not th' alternate fits of fev'rish mirth And fick dejection. Still ferene and pleas'd, They knew no pains but what the tender foul With pleafure yields to, and would ne'er forget. Bleft with divine immunity from ails, Long centuries they liv'd; their only fate Was ripe old age, and rather fleep than death. Oh! could thofe worthies from the world of gods Return to vifit their degen'rate fons, How would they fcorn the joys of modern time, With all our art and toil improv'd to pain! Too happy they! But wealth brought luxury, And luxury on floth begot disease. [difdain Learn temp'rance, friends; and hear without
The choice of water. Thus the * Coan fage Opin'd, and thus the learn'd of ev'ry school: What leaft of foreign principles partakes Is beft; the lightest then; what bears the touch Of fire the leaft, and fooneft mounts in air; The most infipid, the most void of smell. Such the rude mountain from its horrid fides Pours down; fuch waters in the fandy vale For ever boil, alike of winter frosts
And fummer's heat fecure. The crystal fream, Through rocks refounding, or for many a mile O'er the chaf 'd pebbles hurl'd, yields wholefoue,
And mellow draughts; except when winter thaws, And half the mountains melt into the tide. Tho' thirft were ne'er fo refolute, avoid The fordid lake, and all fuch drowy floods As fill from Lethe Belgia's flow canals With reft corrupt, with vegetation green; Squalid with generation, and the birth Of little monsters), till the pow'r of fire Has from profane embraces difengag'd The violated lymph. The virgin fiream, In boiling, wattes its finer foul in air.
Nothing like fimple element dilutes The food, or gives the chyle fo foon to flow. But where the ftomach, indolently given, Toys with its duty, animate with wine Th' infipid ftream: tho' golden Ceres vields A more voluptuous, a more fprightly draught; Perhaps more active. Wine uninix'd, and all The gluey floods that from the vex'd abyis Of fermentation fpring; with spirit fraught, And furious with intoxicating fire; Retard concoction, and preferve unthaw'd Th'embodied mafs. You fee what countless years, Embalm'd in fiery quinteffence of wine, The puny wonders of the reptile world, The tender rudiments of life, the flim Unravellings of minute anatomy, Maintain their texture, and unchang'd remain. We curfe not wine; the vile excefs we blame, More fruitful than th' accumulated board Of pain and mifery. For the fubtle draught Fafter and furer fwells the vital tide; And with more active poison, than the floods Of groffer crudity convey, pervades The far remote meanders of our frame. Ah fly deceiver! branded o'er and o'er, Yet ftill believ'd! exulting o'er the wreck Of fober vows! But the Parnaffian Maids Another time †, perhaps, fhall fing the joys, The fatal charms, the many woes, of wine; Perhaps its various tribes and various pow'rs.
Meantime, I would not always dread the bowl, Nor ev'ry trefpafs fhun. The fev'rith ftrife, Rous'd by the rare debauch, fubdues, expels The loit'ring crudities that burthen life; And, like a torrent full and rapid, clears Th' obftructed tubes. Befides, this reftlefs world Is full of chances, which by habit's pow'r To learn to bear, is easier than to fhun.
Ah! when ambition, meagre love of gold, Or facred country calls, with mellowing wine To moisten well the thirty fuffrages; Say how, unfeafon'd to the midnight frays Of Comus and his rout, wilt thou contend With Centaurs long to hardy deeds inur'd? Then learn to revel, but by flow degrees; By flow degrees the lib'ral arts are won, And Hercules grew ftrong. But when you finooth The brows of care, indulge your feftive vein In cues by well-inform'd experience found The leaft your bane, and only with your friends. There are fweet follies; frailties to be feen By friends alone, and men of gen'rous minds. Oh feldom may the fated hours return Of drinking deep! I would not daily taste, Except when life declines, ev'n fober cups. Weak withering age no rigid law forbids, With frugal nectar, fmooth and flow, with balm The faplefs habit daily to bedew, And give the hesitating wheels of life Gliblier to play. But youth has better joys: And is it wife, when youth with pleafure flows, To fquander the reliefs of age and pain ?
What dextrous thoufands juft within the goal Of wild debauch direct their nightly courfe! Perhaps no fickly qualms bedim their days, No morning admonitions fhock the head. But, ah! what woes remain! Life rolls apace, And that incurable difeafe, old age, In youthful bodies more feverely felt, More fernly active, shakes their blasted prime, Except kind Nature by fome hafty blow Prevent the ling'ring fates. For know, whate'er Beyond its natural fervour hurries on The fanguine tide; whether the frequent bowl, High-featon'd fare, or exercife to toil Protracted; fpurs to its laft ftage tir'd life, And fows the temples with untimely fnow. When life is new, the ductile fibres feel The heart's increasing force; and, day by day, The growth advances: till the larger tubes, Acquiring (from their elemental veins Condens'd to folid chords) a firmer tone, Suftain, and juft fuftain, th' impetuous blood. Here ftops the growth. With overbearing pulfe And preffure, ftill the great deftroy the finall; Still with the ruins of the fmall grow ftrong. Life glows meantime amid the grinding force Of viscous fluids and elaftic tubes; Its various functions vigorously are plied By ftrong machinery; and in folid health The Man confirm'd long triumphs o'er disease. But the full ocean ebbs: there is a point, By nature fix'd, whence life muft downwards tend. For ftill the beating tide confolidates The tubborn veffels, more reluctant ftill
To the weak throbs of th' ill-fupported heart. This languishing, thefe ftrength ning by degrees To hard unyielding unelaftic bone,
Thro' tedious channels the congealing flood Crawls lazily, and hardly wanders on : It loiters ftill: and now it ftirs no more. This is the period few attain, the death Of nature. Thus (fo Heaven ordain'd it) life Destroys itself: and, could these laws have chang'd,
Neftor might now the fates of Troy relate, And Homer live immortal as his fong.
What does not fade? The tow'r that long had
The cruth of thunder and the warring winds, Shook by the flow but fure deftroyer Time, Now hangs in doubtful ruins o'er its base; And flinty pyramids, and walls of brats, Defcend: the Babylonian fpires are funk; Achaia, Rome, and Egypt moulder down. Time hakes the ftable tyranny of thrones, And tottering empires ruth by their own weight. This huge rotundity we tread grows old, And all thofe worlds that roll around the fun : The fun himfelf fhall die, and ancient night Again involve the defolate abyfs, Till the great Father thro' the lifeless gloom Extend his arm to light another world, And bid new planets roll by other laws. For thro' the regions of unbounded fpace, Where unconfin'd Omnipotence has room, Being, in various fyftems, fluctuates ftill Between creation and abhorr'd decay; It ever did, perhaps, and ever will. New worlds are ftill emerging from the deep; The old defcending, in their turns to rife.
But half the toil, and more than half, remains. Rude is her theme, and hardly fit for fong; Plain, and of little ornament; and I But little practis'd in th' Aonian arts. Yet not in vain fuch labours have we tried, If aught thefe lays the fickle health confirm. To you, ye delicate, I write; for you` I tame my youth to philofophic cares, And grow till paler by the midnight lamp. Not to debilitate with timorous rules A hardy frame; nor needlefsly to brave Inglorious dangers, proud of mortal strength, Is all the leffon that in wholefome years Concerns the strong. His care were ill beftow'd, Who would with warm effeminacy nurfe The thriving oak which on the mountain's brow Bears all the blafts that fweep the wint'ry heaven,
In the human body, as well as in thofe of other animals, the larger bicod-veffels are composed of maller ones; which, by the violent motion and preflure of the fluids in the large vetfels, lofe their cavities by degrees, and degenerate into impervious chords or fibres. In proportion as the fe fmall veffels become folid, the larger muft of courfe grow lefs extenfile, more rigid, and make a stronger refiftance to the action of the heart and force of the blood. From this gradual condenfation of the faller veffels, and confequent rigidity of the larger ones, the progrefs of the human body from infancy to old age is accounted for.
Behold the labourer of the glebe, who toils In duft, in rain, in cold, and fultry skies: Save but the grain from mildews and the flood, Nought anxious he what fickly stars afcend. He knows no laws by Efculapius given, He ftudies none. Yet him nor midnight fogs Infeft, nor thofe envenom'd thafts that fly When rabid Sirius fires th' autumnal noon. His habit pure with plain and temperate meals, Robuft with labour, and by custom steel'd To ev'ry cafualty of varied life; Serene lie bears the peevith Eaftern blast, And uninfected breathes the mortal South.
Such the reward of rude and sober life, Of labour fuch. By health the peafant's toil Is well repaid, if exercife were pain Indeed, and temp'rance pain. By arts like thefe Laconia nurs'd of old her hardy fons; And Rome's unconquer'd legions urg'd their way Unhurt, thro' ev'ry toil, in ev'ry clime.
Toil, and be ftrong. By toil the flaccid nerves Grow firm, and gain a more compacted tone; The greener juices are by toil fubdued, Mellow'd, and fubtiliz'd; the vapid old Expell'd, and all the rancour of the blood. Come, my companions, ye who feel the charms Of nature and the year; come, let us ftray Where chance or fancy leads our roving walk: Come, while the foft voluptuous breezes fan The fleecy heavens, enwrap the limbs with balm, And fhed a charming languor o'er the foul. Nor when bright Winter fows with prickly froft The vigorous ether, in unmanly warinth Indulge at home; nor even when Eurus' blafts This way and that convolve the lab'ring woods. My liberal walks, fave when the skies in rain Or fogs relent, no feafon fhould confine Or to the cloifter'd gallery or arcade. Go, climb the mountain; from th' ethereal fource Imbibe the recent gale. The cheerful morn Beams o'er the hills; go, mount th' exulting fteed. Already, fee, the deep-mouth'd beagles catch The tainted mazes; and, on eager 1port Intent, with emulous impatience try Each doubtful trace. Or, if a nobler prey Delight you more, go chafe the defp'rate deer; And thro' its deepcft folitudes awake The vocal foreft with the jovial horn.
But if the breathlefs chace o'er hill and dale Exceed your ftrength, a fport of lefs fatigue, Not lefs delightful, the prolific ftream Affords. The cryftal rivulet, that o'er A ftony channel rolls its rapid maze, Swarms with the filver fry. Such, thro' the bounds Of paftoral Stafford, runs the brawling Trent; Such Eden, fprung from Cumbrian mountains; ftream
The Efk, o'erhung with woods; and fuch the On whofe Arcadian banks I first drew air, Liddal; till now, except in Doric lays Tun'd to her murmurs by her love-fick fwains, Unknown in fong: tho' not a purer fream, Thro' meads more flow'ry, or more romantic gioves,
Rolls toward the western main. Hail, facred flood. May ftill thy hofpitable fwains be blest In rural innocence; thy mountains still Teem with the fleecy race; thy tuneful words For ever flourish; and thy vales look gay With painted meadows, and the golden grain! Oft, with thy blooming fons, when life was new, Sportive and petulant, and charm'd with toys, In thy transparent eddies have I lav'd; Oft trac'd with patient fteps thy fairy banks, With the well-imitated fly to hook The eager trout, and, with the flender line, And yielding rod, folicit to the fhore The ftruggling panting prey; while vernal clouds And tepid gales obscur'd the ruffied pool, And from the deeps call'd forth the wanton fwarms.
Form'd on the Samian fchool, or thofe of led, There are who think thefe pastimes scarce humane; Yet in my mind (and not relenticfs 1) His life is pure that wears no fouler flains. But if thro' genuine tenderness of heart, Or fecret want of relish for the game, You fhun the glories of the chace, nor care To haunt the peopled ftream; the garden yields A foft amusement, an humane delight. To raife th' infipid nature of the ground, Or tame its favage genius to the grace Of careless sweet rufticity, that feems The amiable refult of happy chance, Is to create; and gives a godlike joy, Which every year improves. Nor thou difdam To check the lawless riot of the trees, To plant the grove, or turn the barren mould. O happy he, whom, when his years decline, (His fortune and his fame by worthy means Attain'd, and equal to his mod rate mind; His life approv'd by all the wife and good, Even envied by the vain) the peaceful groves Of Epicurus, from this ftormy world, Receive to reft, of all ungrateful cares Abfolv'd, and facred from the felfith crowd! Happieft of men, if the fame foil invites A chofen few, companions of his youth, Once fellow-rakes perhaps, now rural friends; With whom in eafy commerce to puríve Nature's free charms, and vie for lylvan fame ! A fair ambition, void of ftrife or guile, Or jealoufy, or pain to be outdone, Who plans th' enchanted garden, who directs The vifto beft, and beft conducts the ftream; Whofe groves the fafteft thicken and ascend; Whom firft the welcome fpring falutes; who fhews The earliest bloom, the fweeteft, proudest charms Of Flora; who beft gives Pomona's juice To match the fprightly genius of champaign. Thrice happy days, in rural bus'nefs país'd! Bleft winter nights! when, as the genial fire Cheers the wide hall, his cordial family With foft domeftic arts the hours beguile, And pleafing talk, that starts no timorous fame, With witlefs wantonnefs to hunt it down; Or thro' the fairy-land of tale or song Delighted wander, in fictitious fates Engag`d, and all that strikes humanity :
Till, loft in fable, they the ftealing hour Of timely reft forget. Sometimes, at eve, His neighbours lift the latch, and blefs unbid His feftal roof; while, o'er the light repaft And fprightly cups, they mix in focial joy, And, thro' the maze of converfation, trace Whate'er amufes or improves the mind. Sometimes at eve (for I delight to tafte The native zeft and flavour of the fruit Where fenfe grows wild, and takes of no manure) The decent, honeft, cheerful husbandman Should drown his labours in my friendly bowl, And at my table find himfelf at home.
Whate'er you ftudy, in whate'er you sweat, Indulge your taste. Some love the manly foils; The tennis fome; and fome the graceful dance: Others, more hardy, range the purple heath Or naked stubble, where from field to field The founding coveys urge their lab'ring flight; Eager amid the rifing cloud to pour The gun's unerring thunder: and there are Whom still the meed of the green archer charms. He choofes beft, whofe labour entertains His vacant fancy moft: the toil you hate Fatigues you foon, and fearce improves your limbs. As beauty ftill has blemish, and the mind The most accomplish'd its imperfect fide, Few bodies are there of that happy mould But fome one part is weaker than the reft: The legs perhaps, or arms, refuse their load, Or the cheft labours. Thefe affiduously, But gently, in their proper arts employ'd, Acquire a vigour and fpringy activity To which they were not born. But weaker parts Abhor fatigue and violent difcipline.
Begin with gentle toils; and, as your nerves Grow firm, to hardier by juft fteps afpire. The prudent, ev'n in ev'ry mod'rate walk, At first but faunter, and by flow degrees Increase their pace. This doctrine of the wife Well knows the mafter of the flying fteed. Firft from the goal the manag'd courfers play On bended reins; as yet the fkilful youth Reprefs their foamy pride: but ev'ry breath The race grows warmer, and the tempeft fwells; Till all the fiery mettle has its way, And the thick thunder hurries o'er the plain. When all at once from indolence to toil You fpring, the fibres by the hafty fhock Are tir'd and crack'd, before their unctuous coats, Comprefs'd, can pour the lubricating balm. Befides, collected in the paffive veins, The purple mafs a fudden torrent rolls, O'erpow'rs the heart, and deluges the lungs With dangerous inundation: oft the fource Of fatal woes; a cough that foams with blood, Afthma, and feller peripneumony †, Or the flow minings of the hectic fire.
Th' athletic fool, to whom what Heaven denied Of foul is well compenfated in limbs, Oft, from his rage or brainlefs frolic, feels
His vegetation and brute force decay. The men of better clay and finer mould Know nature, feel the human dignity, And fcorn to vie with oxen or with apes. Purfu'd prolixly, ev'n the gentleft toil Is waste of health repofe by small fatigue Is earn'd; and (where your habit is not prone To thaw) by the firft moifture of the brows: The fine and fubtle fpirits coft too much To be profus'd, too much the rofcid balm. But when the hard varieties of life You toil to learn, or try the dufty chace, Or the warm deeds of fome important day : Hot from the field, indulge not yet your limbs In wifh'd repofe; nor court the fanning gale, Nor tafte the fpring. Oh! by the facred tears Of widows, orphans, mothers, fifters, fires, Forbear! no other peftilence has driven Such myriads o'er th' irremcable deep. Why this fo fatal, the fagacious Mufe Thro' nature's cunning labyrinths could trace · But there are fecrets which who knows not now, Muft, ere he reach them, climb the heapy Alps Of fcience, and devote feven years to toil. Befides, I would not stun your patient ears With what it little boots you to attain. He knows enough, the mariner, who knows Where lurk the fhelves, and where the whirl- pools boil,
What figns portend the ftorm: to fubtler minds He leaves to fcan from what myfterious caufe Charybdis rages in th' Ionian wave;
Whence thofe impetuous currents in the main, Which neither oar nor fail can ftem; and why The rough'ning deep expects the ftorm, as fure As red Orion mounts the fhrouded heaven.
In ancient times, when Rome with Athens vied For polish'd luxury and useful arts; All hot and reeking from th' Olympic ftrife, And warm Paleftra, in the tepid bath Th' athletic youth relax'd their wearied limbs. Soft oils bedew'd them, with the grateful pow'rs Of nard and caffia fraught, to footh and heal The cherish'd nerves. Our lefs voluptuous clime Not much invites us to fuch arts as thefe. 'Tis not for thofe whom gelid fkies embrace, And chilling fogs; whofe perfpiration feels Such frequent bars from Eurus and the North; 'Tis not for thofe to cultivate the skin Too foft, or teach the recremental fume Too faft to crowd thro' fuch precarious ways; For thro' the fmall arterial mouths, that pierce In endless millions the clofe-woven fkin, The bafer fluids in a conftant stream Efcape, and viewlefs melt into the winds. While this eternal, this moft copious wafte Of blood, degen'rate into vapid brine, Maintains its wonted meafure, all the pow'rs Of health befriend you, all the wheels of life With cafe and pleasure move; but, this refrain'd Or more or lefs, fo more or less you feel
This word is much ufed by fome of the old English poets, and fignifies reward or prize. The inflammation of the lungs.
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