A PANEGYRICK UPON OATES
SILVESTREM TENUI
MUSAM MEDITEMUR AVENA.
OF all the
Grain our Nation yield's
In Orchards, Gardens, or in Fields,
There is a
Grain, (which tho 'tis common)
Its
Worth till now, was known to no man
Not
Ceres Sicle 'ere did
Crop,
A
Grain with
Ears of greater hope;
For why? some say, the Earth n'ere bore
In any Clime, such
Seed before.
Yet this
Grain has (as all must own)
To
Grooms and
Ostlers well bin
known;
And often has, without disdain,
In
Musty Barn and
Manger layn;
As if it had bin only good
To be for
Birds and
Beasts the Food:
But now by new inspired force
It keeps alive both
Man and
Horse
Speak then, my Muse, for now we guess,
What
Grain it is, thou wouldst express.
It is not Barley, Rye, or Wheat,
That can pretend to such a Feat;
'Tis
Oates, bare Oates, which is become
The
Health of
England, Bane of
Rome,
And
Wonder of all
Christendom.
And therefore
Oates has well deserv'd,
From
Musty Barn to be
prefer'd,
And now in
Royal Court preserv'd;
That, like
Hesperian Fruit, Oates may
Be
watch'd and
Garded night and Day;
Which is but just Retaliation
For having
Guarded a whole Nation.
Hence every lofty Plant which stands
'Twixt
Barwick Wals and
Dover Sands,
The
Oake it self, which well we stile
The Pride and safe-guard of our Isle,
Must
Wave and
Strike its lofty Head,
And now Salute an
Oaten Reed:
For surely
Oates deserves to be
Exalted far 'bove any
Tree.
Th'
Egyptians once (tho' it seems odd)
Did worship
Onyons for a
God;
And poor
peel'd Garlick was with them
Esteem'd beyond the greatest
Gemm.
What would they' done, had they, think ye
Had such a
Blade of
Oates as we?
Oates of such known
Divinity!
Since then by
Oates such
good we find,
Let
Oates at least now be
enshrin'd,
Or in some sacred
Press enclos'd
Be only kept to be
expos'd;
And all fond
Reliques else, shall be
Deem'd
Objects of
Idolatry.
Popelings may tell us, how they saw
Their
Garnet's Picture on a
Straw;
'Twas a
Great miracle we know
To see him
drawn in
little so,
But on an
Oaten Stalk, there is
A greater
miracle than this,
A
Visage, which with
lively Grace
Does Twenty
Garnets now
Out-face,
And like
Twig of
Dodona's Grove
Ev'en
speak's as if
inspir'd by
Jove.
Nay, to add to the Wonder more,
Declares
unheard-of Things before,
And Thousand
mysteries does unfold,
As
plain as
Oracles of old;
By which we
steer affaires of State,
And
stave off
Britain's sullen Fate.
Let's then, in honour of the name
Of
Oates enact some
Solemn Game,
Where
Oaten Pipe shall us inspire
Beyond the
Charms of
Orpheus Lyre;
Stones, Stocks and every
Senceless thing
To
Oates shall
dance, to
Oates shall
sing.
Whilst
Woods amaz'd to th' Ecchos ring.
And as (that Hero's names may not
When they are rotten; be forgot)
We
hang Atchievements o'
[...]e their Dust;
(A debt to their great merits just:)
So if
Deserts of
Oates we prize,
Let
Oates still
hang before our eyes;
Thereby to raise our Contemplation,
Oates being to this
Happy Nation
The
Mystic Embleme of
Salvation.
FINIS.