He places lightly, and, as time subdues Strain'd through the friendly mats, a vivid green. Two leaves produc'd, two rough indented leaves, Cautious he pinches from the second stalk A pimple, that portends a future sprout, And interdicts its growth. Thence straight succeed The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish; Prolific all, and harbingers of more. The crowded roots demand enlargement now, And transplantation in an ampler space. Indulg'd in what they wish, they soon supply Large foliage, overshadowing golden flow'rs, Blown on the summit of th' apparent fruit. These have their sexes; and, when summer shines, The bee transports the fertilizing meal From flow'r to flow'r, and ev'n the breathing air Wafts the rich prize to its appointed use. Not so when winter scowls. Assistant art Grudge not, ye rich, (since luxury must have His dainties, and the world's more num'rous half Lives by contriving delicates for you) Grudge not the cost. Ye little know the cares, The vigilance, the labour, and the skill, That day and night are exercis'd, and hang That ye may garnish your profuse regales The process. Heat and cold, and wind, and steam, flies, 1 Minute as dust, and numberless, oft work Dire disappointment, that admits no cure, And which no care can obviate. It were long, Too long, to tell th' expedients and the shifts Which he that fights a season so severe Devises, while he guards his tender trust; And oft, at last, in vain. The learn'd and wise Sarcastic would exclaim, and judge the song Cold as its theme, and, like its theme, the fruit Of too much labour, worthless when produc'd. Who loves a garden loves a green-house too, Unconscious of a less propitious clime, There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug, While the winds whistle and the snows descend. The spiry myrtle with unwith'ring leaf Shines there, and flourishes. The golden boast Of Portugal and western India there, The ruddier orange, and the paler lime, Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm, And seem to smile at what they need not fear. Th' amomum there with intermingling flow'rs And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts Her crimson honours, and the spangled beau, Ficoides, glitters bright the winter long. All plants, of ev'ry leaf, that can endure The winter's frown, if screen'd from his shrewd bite, Their jessamine, her jessamine remote Must lend its aid t' illustrate all their charms, And dress the regular yet various scene. The dwarfish, in the rear retir'd, but still Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand. So once were rang'd the sons of ancient Rome, And disappoints the roots; the slender roots |