Ere April seeks another place, And ends her reign in this, She leaves us with as fair a face, As e'er gave birth to bliss.
WHO loves a garden, loves a greenhouse 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 unwithering leaf, Shines there, and flourishes. The golden boast Of Portugal, and western India, there The ruddier orange, and the paler lime,
Peep through their polished foliage at the storm, And seem to smile at what they need not fear. The 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 every leaf, that can endure
The winter's frown, if screen'd from his shrewd bite, Live there and prosper;-those Ausonia claims, Levantine regions these; th' Azores send Their jessamine, her jessamine, remote Caffraria; foreigners from many lands, They form one social shade, as if conven'd
By magic summons of th' Orpheian lyre; Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass But by a master's hand, disposing well The gay diversities of leaf and flow'r,
Must lend its aid t'illustrate all their charms, And dress the regular, yet various scene. Plant behind plant aspiring, in the van The dwarfish; in the rear retir'd, but still Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand. So once were ranged the sons of ancient Rome, A noble show! while Roscius trod the stage; And so, while Garrick, as renowned as he, The sons of Albion; fearing each to lose Some note of Nature's music from his lips, And covetous of Shakspeare's beauty, seen In every flash of his far-beaming eye. Nor taste alone, and well-contriv'd display Suffice to give the marshall'd ranks the grace Of their complete effect. Much yet remains Unsung, and many cares are yet behind,. And more laborious; cares on which depends Their vigour, injur'd soon, not soon restor❜d. The soil must be renew'd, which, often wash'd, Loses its treasure of salubrious salts,
And disappoints the roots; the slender roots Close interwoven, where they meet the vase Must smooth be shorn away; the sapless branch Must fly before the knife; the wither'd leaf Must be detach'd, and where it strews the floor, Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else Contagion, and disseminating death.
Discharge but these kind offices, (and who Would spare, that loves them, offices like these?) Well they reward the toil. The sight is pleas'd; The scent regal'd; each odorif'rous leaf, Each op'ning blossom, freely breathes abroad Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets.
To deck the shapely knoll,
That softly swell'd, and gaily dress'd, appears A flow'ry island from the dark green lawn Emerging, must be deem'd a labour due
To no mean hand, and asks the touch of taste. Here also grateful mixture of well-match'd
And sorted hues, (each giving each relief,
And by contrasted beauty shining more,)
Is needful. Strength may wield the pond'rous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home; But elegance, chief grace the garden shows,
And most attractive, is the fair result
Of thought, the creature of a polish'd mind. Without it, all is gothic as the scene
To which th' insipid citizen resorts
Near yonder heath; where industry misspent,
But proud of his uncouth ill-chosen task,
Has made a heaven on earth; with suns and moons
Of close-ramm'd stones has charg'd th'encumber'd soil, And fairly laid the zodiac in the dust.
He, therefore, who would see his flow'rs dispos'd Sightly and in just order, ere he gives
The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds, Forecasts the future whole; that when the scene Shall break into its preconceiv'd display, Each for itself, and all as with one voice Conspiring, may attest his bright design. Nor even then, dismissing as perform'd His pleasant work, may he suppose it done. Few self-supported flow'rs endure the wind Uninjur'd, but expect th' upholding aid Of the smooth-shaven prop, and, neatly tied, Are wedded thus, like beauty to old age, For interest sake, the living to the dead. Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffus'd And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair, Like virtue, thriving most where little seen; Some, more aspiring, catch the neighbour shrub With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch, Else unadorn'd, with many a gay festoon
And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well
The strength they borrow with the grace they lend. All hate the rank society of weeds,
Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust Th' impoverish'd earth; an overbearing race That, like the multitude made faction-mad, Disturb good order, and degrade true worth.
The latent rill, scarce oozing through the grass, Of growth luxuriant; or the humid bank In fair profusion decks. Long let us walk, Where the breeze blows from yon extended field Of blossom'd beans. Arabia cannot boast
A fuller gale of joy, than, liberal, thence
Breathes through the sense, and takes the ravish'd soul. Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot,
Full of fresh verdure, and unnumber'd flow'rs, The negligence of nature, wide and wild; There, undisguis'd by mimic art, she spreads Unbounded beauty to the roving eye; Here, their delicious task the fervent bees, In swarming millions, tend; around, athwart, Through the soft air the busy nations fly, Cling to the bud, and, with inserted tube, Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul; And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring dare The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows, And yellow load them with the luscious spoil.
At length the finish'd garden to the view
Its vistas opens, and its alleys green. Snatch'd through the verdant maze, Distracted wanders; now the bow'ry walk
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