As many bloffoms as the spring could thow,
So many dangling apples mellow'd on the bough.
In rows his elms and knotty pear-trees bloom,
And thorns ennobled now to bear a plumb,
And fpreading plane-trees, where fupinely laid
He now enjoys the cool, and quaffs beneath the fhade.
But these for want of room I must omit,
And leave for future poets to recite.
Now I'll proceed their natures to declare,
Which Jove himself did on the bees confer;
Because, invited by the timbrel's found,
Lodg'd in a cave th' almighty babe they found,
And the young god nurft kindly under-ground.
Of all the wing'd inhabitants of air,
These only make their young the public care;
In well-difpos'd fccieties they live,
And laws and statutes regulate their hive
Nor ftray, like others, unconfin'd abroad,
But know set stations, and a fix'd abode.
Each provident of cold in fummer flies
Through fields, and woods, to feek for new supplies,
And in the common ftock unlades his thighs.
Some watch the food, fome in the meadows ply,
Taste every bud, and fuck each bloffom dry;
Whilst others, labouring in their cells at home,
Temper Narciffus' clammy tears with gum,
For the first ground-work of the golden comb;
On this they found their waxen works, and raise
The yellow fabrick on its glewy base.
Some educate the young, or hatch the feed:
With vital warmth, and future nations breed,
Whilft others thicken all the flimy dews,.
And into pureft honey work the juice;
Then fill the hollows of the comb, and fwell
With luscious nectar every flowing cell.
By turns they watch, by turns with curious eyes
Survey the heavens, and fearch the clouded fkies
To find out breeding ftorms, and tell what tempefts rise.
By turns they ease the loaden fwarms, or drive.
The drone, a lazy infect, from their hive.
The work is warmly ply'd through all the cells,
And strong with thyme the new-made honey smells.
So in their caves the brawny Cyclops sweat,
When with huge strokes the stubborn wedge they beat,
And all th' unshapen thunder-bolt compleat;
Alternately their hammers rife and fall;
Whilft griping tongs turn round the glowing ball.
With puffing bellows fome the flames increase,
And fome in waters dip the hiffing mafs;
Their beaten anvils dreadfully refound,
And Ætna shakes all o'er, and thunders under ground. Thus, if great things we may with small compare, The bufy fwarms their different labours fhare.
Defire of profit urges all degrees;
The aged infects, by experience wife,
Attend the comb, and fashion every part,
And shape the waxen fret-work out with art:
The young at night, returning from their toils,
Bring home their thighs clog'd with the meadows fpoils. On lavender and faffron-buds they feed,
On bending ofiers, and the balmy reed:
From purple violets and the teile they bring
Their gather'd sweets, and rifle all the spring.
All work together, all together rest.
The morning ftill renews their labours paft;
Then all rush out, their different tasks purfue,
Sit on the bloom, and fuck the ripening dew;
Again when evening warns them to their home,
With weary wings, and heavy thighs they come,
And crowd about the chink, and mix a drowsy hum.
Into their cells at length they gently creep,
There all the night their peaceful station keep,
Wrapt up in filence, and diffolv'd in sleep..
None range abroad when winds and storms are nigh,
Nor trust their bodies to a faithless sky,
But make small journeys, with a careful wing,
And fly to water at a neighbouring spring;.
And, left their airy bodies should he cast
In restless whirls, the sport of every blast,
They carry stones to poise them in their flight,
As ballast keeps th' unsteady. vessel right.
But of all customs that the bees can boaft,
'Tis this may challenge admiration moft;
That none will Hymen's fofter joys approve,
Nor waste their spirits in luxurious love,
But all a long virginity maintain,
And bring forth young without a mother's pain.
From herbs and flowers they pick each tender bee,
And cull from plants a buzzing progeny ;
From these they choose out subjects, and create
A little monarch of the rifing state;
Then build wax kingdoms for the infant prince,
And form a palace for his refidence.
But often in their journeys, as they fly,
On flints they tear their filken wings, or lie
Groveling beneath their flowery load, and die.
Thus love of honey can an infect fire,
And in a fly fuch generous thoughts inspire.
Yet by repeopling their decaying state,
Though seven short springs conclude their vital date,
Their ancient stocks eternally remain,
And in an endless race their childrens children reign.
No proftrate vaffal of the East can more
With flavish fear his mighty Prince adore;
His life unites them all; but when he dies,
All in loud tumults and distractions rife ;
They wafte their honey, and their combs deface,
And wild confufion reigns in every place.
Him all admire, all the great guardian own,
And crowd about his courts, and buzz about his throne.
Oft on their backs their weary prince they bear,
Oft in his caufe embattled in the air,
Purfue a glorious death, in wounds and war.
Some from fuch inftances as these have taught, "The bees extract is heavenly; for they thought "The univerfe alive; and that a foul,
"Diffus'd throughout the matter of the whole, "To all the vaft unbounded frame was given,
"And ran through earth, and air, and sea, and all "the deep of heaven;
"That this first kindled life in man and beaft,
"Life that again flows into this at last.
** That no compounded animal conld die,
* But when diffolv'd, the spirit mounted high,
"Dwelt in aftar, and fettled in the sky."
When-e'er their balmy fweets you mean to feize,
And take the liquid labours of the bees,
Spurt draughts of water from your mouth, and drive
A lothsome cloud of fmoke amidst their hive.
Twice in the year their flowery toils begin,
And twice they fetch their dewy harvest in;
Once when the lovely Pleiades arise,
And add fresh luftre to the fummer skies:
And once when hastening from the watery fign
They quit their station, and forbear to fhine.
The bees are prone to rage, and aften found
To perish for revenge, and die upon the wound,
'Their venom'd fting produces aking pains,
And fwells the flesh, and shoots among the veins.
When firft. a cold hard winter's forms arrive,
And threaten death or famine to their hive,
If now their finking state and low affairs
Can move your pity, and provoke your cares,
Fresh burning thyme before their cells convey,
And cut their dry and husky wax away ;
For often lizards feize the luscious spoils,
Or drones that riot on another's toils:
Oft broods of moths infeft the hungry fwarms,
And oft the furious wasp their hive alarms
With louder hums, and with unequal arms ;-
Or else the spider at the entrance fets
Her fnares, and spins her bowels into nets.
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