Page:The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books.djvu/90

The treasur'd oil, then is the happiest time
To shake the lazy balsam from its cells.
345Now while the stomach from the full repast
Subsides; but ere returning hunger gnaws;
Ye leaner habits give an hour to toil:
And ye whom no luxuriancy of growth
Oppresses yet, or threatens to oppress.
350But from the recent meal no labours please,
Of limbs or mind. For now the cordial powers
Claim all the wandering spirits to a work
Of strong and subtle toil, and great event;
A work of time: and you may rue the day
355You hurried, with ill-seasoned exercise,
A half concocted chyle into the blood.
The body overcharg'd with unctuous phlegm
Much toil demands: The lean elastic less.
While winter chills the blood, and binds the veins,
360No labours are too hard: By those you 'scape