12
The ART of
B. I.
Too stretch'd a tone: And hence in climes adust
So sudden tumults seize the trembling nerves,
And burning fevers glow with double rage.
185Fly, if you can, these violent extremes
Of air; the wholesome is nor moist nor dry.
But as the power of chusing is deny'd
To half mankind, a further task ensues;
How best to mitigate these fell extreams,
190How breathe unhurt the withering element,
Or hazy atmosphere: Tho' custom moulds
To every clime the soft Promethean clay;
And he who first the fogs of Essex breath'd
(So kind is native air) may in the fens
195Of Essex from inveterate ills revive
At pure Montpelier or Bermuda caught.
But if the raw and oozy heaven offend,
Correct the soil, and dry the sources up
Of
