The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books. John Armstrong

Where health is studied; for whatever moves

       The mind with calm delight, promotes the just

       And natural movements of th' harmonious frame,

      300Besides, the sportive brook for ever shakes

       The trembling air; that floats from hill to hill,

       From vale to mountain, with incessant change

       Of purest element, refreshing still

       Your airy seat, and uninfected Gods.

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      305Chiefly for this I praise the man who builds

       High on the breezy ridge, whose lofty sides

       Th' etherial deep with endless billows laves.

       His purer mansion nor contagious years

       Shall reach, nor deadly putrid airs annoy.

      310But may no fogs, from lake or fenny plain,

       Involve my hill. And wheresoe'er you build;

       Whether on sun-burnt Epsom, or the plains

       Wash'd by the silent Lee; in Chelsea low,

       Or high Blackheath with wintry winds assail'd;

      315Dry be your house: but airy more than warm.

       Else every breath of ruder wind will strike

       Your tender body thro' with rapid pains;

       Fierce coughs will teize you, hoarseness bind your voice,

       Or moist Gravedo load your aching brows.

      320These to defy, and all the fates that dwell

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      In cloister'd air tainted with steaming life,

       Let lofty ceilings grace your ample rooms;

       And still at azure noontide may your dome

       At every window drink the liquid sky.

      325Need we the sunny situation here,

       And theatres open to the south, commend?

       Here, where the morning's misty breath infests

       More than the torrid noon? How sickly grow,

       How pale, the plants in those ill-fated vales

      330That, circled round with the gigantic heap

       Of mountains, never felt, nor ever hope

       To feel, the genial vigor of the sun!

       While on the neighbouring hill the rose inflames

       The verdant spring; in virgin beauty blows

      335The tender lily, languishingly sweet;

       O'er every hedge the wanton woodbine roves,

       And autumn ripens in the summer's ray.

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      Nor less the warmer living tribes demand

       The fost'ring fun: whose energy divine

      340Dwells not in mortal fire; whose generous heat

       Glows thro' the mass of grosser elements,

       And kindles into life the pond'rous spheres.

       Chear'd by thy kind invigorating warmth,

       We court thy beams, great majesty of day!

      345If not the soul, the regent of this world,

       First born of heaven, and only less than God!

      1 ↑ Hygeia the goddess of health, was, according to the genealogy of the heathen deities, the daughter of Esculapius; who, as well as Apollo, was distinguished by the name of Pæon.

      2 ↑ The wild rose, or that which grows upon the wild briar.