The Preface.

MY early Mistress, now my Antient Muse,
That strong Circaean liquor cease to infuse,
Wherewith thou didst Intoxicate my youth,
Now stoop with dis-inchanted wings to Truth;
As the Doves flight did guide Aeneas, now
May thine conduct me to the Golden Bough;
Tell (like a Tall Old Oake) how Learning shoots
To Heaven Her Branches, and to Hell her Roots.