Even Daphne's coyness he does mock,
And weds the cherry to her stock,
Though she refused Apollo's suit,
Even she, that chaste and virgin tree,
Now wonders at herself to see
That she's a mother made, and blushes in her fruit.
XI.
Methinks I see great Diocletian walk
In the Salonian garden's noble shade,
Which by his own imperial hands was made:
I see him smile, methinks, as he does talk
With the ambassadors, who come in vain,
To entice him to a throne again.
"If I, my friends," said he, "should to you show
All the delights which in these gardens grow;
'Tis likelier much that you should with me stay,
Than 'tis that you should carry me away;
And trust me not, my friends, if every day
I walk not here with more delight,
Than ever, after the most happy fight,
In triumph to the Capitol I rode,
To thank the gods, and to be thought myself almost a god.
OF GREATNESS.
Since we cannot attain to greatness, says the Sieur de Montaigne,
let us have our revenge by railing at it; this he spoke but in jest.
I believe he desired it no more than I do, and had less reason, for
he enjoyed so plentiful and honourable a fortune in a most excellent
country, as allowed him all the real conveniences of it, separated
and purged from the incommodities.
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