A PANEGYRIC UPON OATS  
SILVESTREM TENUI MUSAM MEDITEMUR AVENA.  

OF all the Grain our Nation yield's  
In Orchards, Gardens, or in Fields,  
There is a Grain, (which though 'tis common)  
Its Worth till now, was known to no man  
Not Ceres' Sickle 'ere did Crop,  
A Grain with Ears of greater hope;  
For why? some say, the Earth ne'er bore  
In any Clime, such Seed before.   

Yet this Grain has (as all must own)  
To Grooms and Ostlers well been known;  
And often has, without disdain,  
In Musty Barn and Manger lain;  
As if it had been 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 Oats, which is become  
The Health of England, Bane of Rome,  
And Wonder of all Christendom.  
And therefore Oates has well deserved,  
From Musty Barn to be preferred,  
And now in Royal Court preserved;  
That, like Hesperian Fruit, Oats may  
Be watched and Guarded night and Day;  
Which is but just Retaliation  
For having Guarded a whole Nation.   

Hence every lofty Plant which stands  
'Twixt Barwick Walls and Dover Sands,  
The Oak itself, which well we style  
The Pride and safeguard 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 Onions for a God;  
And poor peeled Garlic was with them  
Esteemed beyond the greatest Gemm.  
What would they ' done, had they, think ye  
Had such a Blade of Oats as we?  
Oats of such known Divinity!  
Since then by Oats such good we find,  
Let Oats at least now be enshrined,  
Or in some sacred Press enclosed  
Be only kept to be exposed;  
And all fond Relics else, shall be  
Deemed 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 Outface,  
And like Twig of Dodona's Grove  
E'en speaks as if inspired by Jove.  
Nay, to add to the Wonder more,  
Declares unheardof Things before,  
And Thousand mysteries does unfold,  
As plain as Oracles of old;  
By which we steer affairs of State,  
And stave off Britain's sullen Fate.   

Let's then, in honour of the name  
Of Oats enact some Solemn Game,  
Where Oaten Pipe shall us inspire  
Beyond the Charms of Orpheus Lyre;  

Stones, Stocks and every Senseless thing  
To Oats shall dance, to Oats shall sing.  
Whilst Woods amazed to th' Echoes ring.   
And as (that Hero's names may not  
When they are rotten; be forgot)  
We hang Achievements o'●e their Dust;  
(A debt to their great merits just:)  
So if Deserts of Oats we prise,  
Let Oats still hang before our eyes;  

Thereby to raise our Contemplation,  
Oates being to this Happy Nation  
The Mystic Emblem of Salvation.    
FINIS.