THE
HOSPITABLE
OAKE
.
BY
—
.
ERST
in
Arcadia's
londe
much
prais'd
was
found
,
A
lustie
tree
far
rearing
t'ward
the
skies
,
Sacred
to
Jove
,
and
placed
on
high
ground
,
Beneath
whose
shade
did
gladsome
sheperds
hie
,
Met
plenteous
good
,
and
oft
were
wont
to
shunne
Bleak
winter's
drizzle
,
summer's
parching
sunne
.
Outstretch'd
in
all
the
luxurie
of
ease
They
pluck'd
rich
misletoe
of
virtue
rare
;
Their
lippe
was
tempted
by
each
kindlie
breeze
,
That
wav'd
the
branch
to
proffer
acorns
fair
;
While
out
the
hollow'd
root
,
with
sweets
inlaide
,
The
murm'ring
bee
her
daintie
hoard
betrayde
.
The
fearless
bird
safe
bosom'd
here
its
neste
,
Its
sturdie
side
did
brave
the
nipping
winde
,
Where
many
a
creeping
ewe
mought
gladlie
reste
;
Warme
comforte
here
to
all
and
every
kinde
;
Where
hunge
the
leaf
well
sprint
with
honey
dew
,
Whence
dropt
their
cups
,
the
gamboling
fairie
knew
.
But
ah
!
in
luckless
day
what
mischief
'gan
Midst
fell
debate
,
and
maddening
revelrie
,
When
tipsie
Bacchus
had
bewitched
Pan
,
For
sober
swain
so
thankless
ne'er
mought
be
;
Tho'
passinge
strange
—
'twas
bruited
all
arounde
,
This
goodlie
tree
did
shadowe
too
much
grounde
.
With
much
despight
they
aim
its
overthrow
,
And
sorrie
jestes
its
wonted
giftes
deride
,
How
snaring
birdlimes
made
of
misletoe
;
Nor
trust
their
flocks
to
shelter
'neath
its
side
;
It
drops
chill
venom
on
our
ewes
,
they
cry
,
And
subtle
serpent
at
its
root
doth
lie
.
Eftsoons
the
axe
doth
rear
its
deadlie
blowe
,
Arounde
dothe
eccho
bear
each
labouringe
stroke
;
Now
to
the
grounde
its
loftie
head
doth
bowe
,
Then
angry
Jove
aloud
in
thunder
spoke
.
On
high
Olympus
next
mine
tree
I'll
place
,
Heaven's
still
unscann'd
by
sich
ungrateful
race
.