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 produced. 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 polish'd foliage at the storm, And seem to smile at what they need not fear. The amomum there with intermingling flowers 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; the Azores send
Their jessamine, her jessamine remote Caffraria foreigners from many lands,
They form one social shade, as if convened By magić summons of the Orphean lyre. Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass But by a master's hand, disposing well
The gay diversities of leaf and flower,
Must lend its aid to illustrate all their charms, And dress the regular yet various scene. Plant behind plant aspiring, in the van The dwarfish, in the rear retired, 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 renown'd 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 contrived 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, injured soon, not soon restored. 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 pleased, The scent regaled, each odoriferous leaf, Each opening blossom freely breathes abroad Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets. So manifold, all pleasing in their kind, All healthful, are the employs of rural life, Reiterated as the wheel of time
Runs round; still ending and beginning still. Nor are these all. To deck the shapely knoll, That softly swell'd and gaily dress'd appears A flowery 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 ponderous 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 the insipid citizen resorts
Near yonder heath; where Industry mispent, But proud of his uncouth ill chosen task,
Has made a heaven on earth; with suns and moons
Of close ramm'd stones has charged the encumber'd
And fairly laid the zodiac in the dust.
He therefore, who would see his flowers disposed
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 preconceived 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 flowers endure the wind Uninjured, but expect the 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 diffused 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
The impoverish'd earth; an overbearing race, That, like the multitude made faction-mad, Disturb good order, and degrade true worth. O blest seclusion from a jarring world, Which he, thus occupied, enjoys! Retreat Cannot indeed to guilty man restore Lost innocence, or cancel follies past.
But it has peace, and much secures the mind From all assaults of evil; proving still A faithful barrier, not o'erleap'd with ease By vicious Custom, raging uncontroll'd Abroad, and desolating public life.
When fierce temptation, seconded within By traitor Appetite, and arm'd with darts Temper'd in Hell, invades the throbbing breast, To combat may be glorious, and success Perhaps may crown us; but to fly is safe. Had I the choice of sublunary good,
What could I wish, that I possess not here?
Health, leisure, means to improve it, friendship,
No loose or wanton, though a wandering, muse, And constant occupation without care.
Thus blest I draw a picture of that bliss; Hopeless indeed, that dissipated minds, And profligate abusers of a world Created fair so much in vain for them, Should seek the guiltless joys that I describe, Allured by my report: but sure no less
That self-condemn'd they must neglect the prize, And what they will not taste must yet approve. What we admire we praise; and, when we praise, Advance it into notice, that, its worth Acknowledged, others may admire it too. I therefore recommend, though at the risk Of popular disgust, yet boldly still. The cause of piety and sacred truth,
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