Some even the generous nutriment detest 110
Which, in the shell, the sleeping Embryo rears.
Some, more unhappy still, repent the gifts
Of Pales; soft, delicious and benign:
The balmy quintescence of every flower,
And every grateful herb that decks the spring; 115
The fost’ring dew of tender sprouting life;
The best reflection of declining age;
The kind restorative of those who lie
Half-dead and panting, from the doubtful strife