Its native measure, the pleuritic Spring 490
Glides harmless by; and Autumn, sick to death
With sallow Quartans, no contagion breathes.
I in prophetic numbers could unfold
The omens of the year: what seasons teem
With what diseases; what the humid South 495
Prepares, and what the Dæmon of the East:
But you perhaps refuse the tedious song.
Besides, whatever plagues in heat, or cold,
Or drought, or moisture dwell, they hurt not you,