OF GARDENS.  
Four Books  
First written in Latin Verse BY RENATUS RAPINUS.  
And now made English By I. E.  
LONDON, Printed by T. R. & N. T. for Thomas Collinsand john Ford at the Middle-Temple Gate, and Benjamin Tooks at the Shipin St. Paul's Churchyard, 1672.   

To the Right Honourable HENRY Earl of ARLINGTON, Viscount THETFORD, etc.  
His Majesty's Principal Secreiary of State, of his most honourable Privy Council; and Knight of the most noble Order of the Garter, etc.  
MY LORD,  
'tis become the mode of this writing age, to trouble Persons of the highest Rank, not only with the Real Productions of Wit; but (if so I may be allowed to speak) with the trifles and follies of it; hardly does an ill Play come forth without a Dedication to some great Lady, or man of Honour; and all think themselves sufficiently secure, if they can obtain but the least pretence of Authority to cover their imperfections: My Lord, I am sensible of mine: but they concern only myself, and can never lessen the dignity of a Subject, which the best of Poets, and perhaps the greatest Wits too, have celebrated with just applause.  
I know not how, my Lord, I may have succeeded with this adventure, in an age so nice and refined, but the Die is cast, and I had rather expose myself to the fortune of it, then loose an occasion of acknowledging your Lordship's favours, which as they have obliged the Father, so ought they to command the gratitude of the Son: nor must I forget to acquaint your Lordship, that the Author of this Poem addressed it to one of the most Eminent Persons in France; and it were unhappy if it should not meet with the same good Fortune in England; I am sure the original deserves it, which though it may have lost much of its Lustre by my Translation, will yet recover its credit with advantage, by having found in your Lordship so Illustrious a Patron. Great Men have in all Ages been favourable to the Muses, and done them honour; and your Lordship, who is the true Model of Virtue and Greatness, cannot but have the same inclinations. for the delights which adorn, those Titles; especially, when they are innocent, and useful, and excellent, as this Poem is pronounced to be by the Suffrages of the most discerning; I had else my Lord, suppressed my ambition of being in Pring, and setting up for a Poet, which is neither my talon nor design: But my Lord, to importune you no further, this piece presumes not to intrude into your Cabinet, but to wait upon you in your Gardens at Euston, where, if when your Lordships more weighty affairs give leave, you vouchsafe to divert yourself with the first Blossoms of my Youth, they may by the instuence of your Lordship's favour, one day produce fruits of more maturity, and worthy the oblation of  
My Lord, Your Lordship's Most dutiful, and most obedient Servant I. EVELYN.   

The Preface.  
IT, will doubtless appear an intolerable presumption in the to prosecute that part of the perfectest Work of all Antiquity, which was omitted by the most accomplished Poet that ever wrote. Few are ignorant of what he says in the fourth of his Georgics.  

For sitan & Pingues hortos quae cura colendi,  
Ornaret, canerem, biferique rosaria Poesti:  
Quoque modo potis gauderent intyba rivis,  
Et virides apio ripae.   
You would think in this place that Virgil was pleased with his own fancy, he is so fluent; nor without cause, where he is invited by the charm of so liberal a Subject. But whether he was hastened by his designed Poem of Bees; ot that he reserved his time for the setting forth of his Hero, not m●ch after he leaves off what he had beg●n; yet not without a commendation of the Argument, as worthy to be handled by all posterity.  

Verum haec ipse equidem spatiis disclusus iniquis  
Praetereo, atque aliis post commemoranda relinquo.   
Now to go on where so great a man left off, to treat of a matter, which if we may believe Pliny, was able to deter so expert a Writer, makes me fear I can scarce free myself from the guilt of an extreme confidence, besides in the imitation of so divine a Pattern, I raise a greater expectation than I can satisfy: And the example which I propose to myself is not so much an advantage to me. as it leads me to an infallible despair. What a rashness is it to attempt that which partly for the difficulty of what Virgil has omitted, partly for the excellency of what he has performed, none ever yet dared to undertake? The Culture of Gardens also being arrived to that height, that nothing can render it more perfect; and their dignity is such, that when I have done all I can, I shall have done less than they deserve.  
Nor was I a little discouraged by the defects of the Latin Tongue, since it is an insufferable arrogance to write of a thing in Latin, of which the Latins were wholly ignorant: For the method of Gardening which is now in vogue, either of disposing Flowers in Beds, or the planting, and ordering of Wall Fruits, was not used among them. But yet if I transgress either through the penury of the Language, or my own ignorance. I am so vain as to hope, that our Age which admires Gardens above all others, will forgive me, if I fall short in an Essay which none have made trial of before me. On the other side, I was encouraged by the kind reception which Gardening finds every where, even with those of the highest and noblest rank; insomuch, that I question whether it was ever in greater esteem. And it was requisite since we are grown more curious in this affair then formerly, that somewhat of the delightful part of it should be communicated, which as well by the discipline of the times, as the industry of the improvers, is come to its utmost perfection. For certainly that symmetry of parts, which is now visible in every Garden, is that exact beauty to which nothing can be added.  
I need not say much here of the nature of that Verse, in which Precepts were wont to be delivered; the Georgics of Virgil are the best patterns of it; whose natural Ingenuity is such, as will hardly admit of that more elegant dress which I have put on; considering also the humility of that style, in which a naked and unmixed simplicity is most sought after. I will not go about to excuse myself, since I have happened on a Subject in which Virgil could not easily contain himself; though it was no difficult matter for him to do it, especially in that duller part of Husbandry; in which nevertheless, as Pliny observes, he only culled the flowers of things, leaving out nothing that was capable of any splendour or ornament: hence proceeded those frequent digressions from his purpose, that he might avoid the inconvenience of being tedious, which Ma●robius speaks of in the 5th. book of his Saturnalia. In the Georgics (says he) after the precepts which are naturally harsh, he concludes each book with the interposition of some quicker argument: As the first with the signs of the Wether; the second with the praises of a country Life; the third with a mortality among cattle; and the fourth with a pertinent story of Orpheus and Aristaeus. Nor have I been wanting in that particular: having made it my business to teach with as little rudeness as I can: and to advance the dulness of the instruction by the freedom of my fancy, that I might allay the harshness of those places, which the humility of the subject has so debased, that otherwise they would be displeasing to the Reader.  
Yet if I appear too curious: I can defend myself by the authority of all those Greeks, who have written of Flowers, or their Culture. What can be more elegant than the description which Nicander makes in the seond of his Georgics of those Gardens in the territories of Pisa, which were watered by the river Alpheus? In which he so often makes use of those ornaments, which Poetry derives from its fabulous times. It is almost incredible how copious and eloquent the rest are in that argument, of whom Athenaeus makes mention in his 15th. book. Those who in verse treated of flowery Garlands, as Cratinus, Hegesias, Anacreon, Sapph, Pancrates, Chaeremon, Eubulus, and innumerable others. But I should not have so freely made use of Fables, in a matter that is expected to be grave and instructive: I should have inquired into the nature of Flowers and Plants, have described their properties, and estimated their virtues. I confess I should; and I think I have done so: Yet not forgetting that I act the part of a Poet, and not of a Philosopher, to gain credit by the raw simplicity of a scrupulous discourse. But though this be a middle, and more contracted way of writing, yet it sometimes takes courage, and exalts itself, that the slenderness of the matter may not make it appear too mean and dejected. To prevent which, the Soul must be excited, that so the mind (as Anacreon has it) being raised to a poetic height, may breathe forth divine raptures.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
But the mention of the Heathen Deitys, by a Christian Author, perhaps will seem absurd to those, who are ignorant of the Genius of Poetry, which by the services of the gods, and a feigned terror of their decrees, ought sometimes to elevate the mind, that it may create admiration; and for this the liberty that is usually allowed the Muses is warrant enough, if we had not that of Religion too, which neither thinks itself, or morality injured, by that licence which a Poet takes to set off the truth, by the beauty and gracefulness of fiction.  
I have not been so nice in Wood, and Water, as in Flowers, whose charms forced me to be a little more exuberant: unless it be in some places, where it was convenient to make the excellency of Poetry shine forth in the delightfuliness of Fables; that so the work might not wholly labour under the barrenness of the precepts, which it treats of.  
In the Orchard, I fear I have not satisfied their expectations, who looked for a long Catalogue of Fruits and Apples, which are so numerous that it were endless to go about it; in describing the different kinds of Fruit, I have only touched the heads of things, after the example of Virgil, who in the second of his Georgics, speaks but of a few of those wines which Italy afforded with so much variety and abundance; nor does he take notice of any more than three sorts of Olives, and as many of Pears: for nothing is more abhorrent from the nature of that verse, than the hateful enumeration of particulars, which cannot but be very tedious, when it descends so low as to divide every thing into atoms, like that impertinent workman whom Horace speaks of in his Poems.  

AEmilium circa ludum faber imus, & ungues  
Exprimet, & molles imitabitur aere capillos,  
Infoelix operis summa.   
A correct writer can never fall into this error, he will rather make choice with judgement, then be voluminous. But since I cannot avoid being faulty in many things: I were unwise if I should endeavour to excuse all. Therefore not to tyre the Reader (whose favour I implore) with a long Preface, I will make no more apologies for myself, but only add a word or two of the end, that is proposed in an instructive Poem: which as it is the same with that of all Poetry, is very easy. Not but that it is more generous, then to insist wholly upon vanities and trifles: although its chief talon lies in being delightful: that which makes Philosophy itself appear wiser than other things, is the harshness, by which it renders the truth more difficult to be attained. The end of that Poetry is as of all the rest to teach: which as Horace intimates to Lollius.  

Quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non:  
Plenius ac melius Chrysippo, & Crantore dicit.   
Though Seneca in other things is no inconsiderate writer, yet here he is so confident a Critic, that I have no patience with him, when he censures Virgil in his Georgics, for making it his business not so much to speak truth, as what was graceful and ornamental; and to have rather aimed at the delight of the Reader, than the improvement of the Husbandman: Thus he destroys the main design of the Gentiler sort of Poetry, which was never more happily carried on then by Virgil. Therefore as to this point, I value the opinion of Seneca but little; from whom I may appeal to the judgement of antiquity, which is ever to be reverenced by all wise men. It is manifest enough, how improbable it is, that a man so well seen in the works of nature, and one who acts with so much strictness in other things, should play the fool where he intends to instruct. For what is more below a generous man, then to trifle where he should teach; or to dwell upon niceties, where he promises that which is serious: and no one who is not very stupid can impute this to Virgil?  
In Varro I find innumerable of the ancients to have written of agriculture. But of all those none but Menecrates the Ephesian, and Hesiod wrote in verse, and Hesiod was the first, who as Pliny testifies: Thousands of years ago, in the infancy of learning, gave the first rules of Husbandry; though indeed Hesiod treated of the manners of men, more than the nature of things; which was what he proposed to himself: so that he acts the part of a Moralist, rather than of a true Poet: Yet he deserves infinite praise; but not so much as Virgil, whose performances in that kind, are above admiration. This is the reason that makes me look upon him, as one who contrary to the mode of the rest of the Poets-promises nothing of himself, but without modesty and plainness, which in my opinion, is the most approved method of a good understanding; whose clearness is the perfect accomplishment of that wisdom, which Horace ad Pisones requires as the standard of sound and correct writing.  
Scribendi recte, sapere est & principium, & Fons.   

RAPINUS OF GARDENS.  
Book 1. Flowers.  

OF Flowers, a Gardens chiefest grace I sing,  
How you may Groves to best perfection bring;  
Of Aqueducts, of Fruit, the cure and use:  
This to the world is published by my Muse.  
Ye Gods that make the earth to fructify,  
Let no rude tempest now disturb the Sky.  
Through paths by the Poetic Train untrod,  
Apollo calls, though first to Maro showed;  
When in the end of his discourse he writes,  
What most th' Italian fertile Soil delights;  
To till the field his thrifty Swain he taught;  
Gardens to plant, left for some later thought.   

This Poet's footsteps I can only trace;  
Nor dare I think to equalise his pace,  
Whose heavenly flight by nothing I pursue,  
But my weak eyes, and keep him in my view.   

Thou that art mine, and learning's greatest light,  
Under whose influence justice shines more bright  
Lamon, if with thy Laws severe defence,  
And State-affairs a while thou canst dispense;  
Afford my Gardens room within thy mind,  
Though to the Laws and Government resigned:  
While with impartial sentence you decide  
Causes, by interest, nor affection tied;  
While your example is to all a law,  
And your own virtue vice itself does awe;  
Yet to alleviate this sublimer care,  
Grant to the Muses in your thoughts a share.  
Though I perhaps to lower ends aspire,  
Some kinder God may set my soul on fire;  
Then shall I sing, and publish loud your fame,  
And in due numbers celebrate your name:  
The Woods shall you, the Fountains you resound,  
Your praise shall echo from the fruitful ground.  
My Flowers to your Temples shall be joined,  
Which for immortal Garlands are designed.   

Soil fit for Gardens first of all prepare,  
To th'East exposed, refreshed with wholesome air,  
Where no near hill his lofty head presumes  
T'advance, or noisome Fens exhale in fumes.  
Where no dull vapours from the Pools infect;  
Flowers most of all the open air affect.  
But before this you ought to know the state,  
And nature of the earth you cultivate,  
'Tis best, where fat and clammy ground you see;  
Flowers with rich soil most properly agree.  
This rank with weeds of a luxuriant blade,  
Culture admits, and is for flowers made.  
Learn that t'avoid, where deep in barren clay  
The specked Euts their yellow bellies lay.  
Where burning sand the upperhand obtains,  
Or where with chalk unfruitful gravel reigns.  
And lest th' external redness of the Soil  
Deceive your labours, and despise your toil;  
Deeply beneath the furrows thrust your spade:  
Outward appearance many hath betrayed.  
Earth under the green Sward may be enclosed  
To a rough sand, or burning clay disposed.  
Some I've observed, who, if the ground they find  
To bring forth stones or Pebbles be inclined,  
Sift it, lest they the tender blade molest,  
And by their weight the flowers be oppressed.   

Now if both earth and air answer your ends,  
(For earth upon air's influence depends)  
Enlarge your prospect, nor confine your sight  
To narrow bounds; Flowers in no shades delight.  
Break with the Rake, if stiffer clods abound,  
And with ir'n rollers levelly well the ground.  
Nor yet make haste your borders to describe;  
But let the earth the Autumn showers imbibe;  
That after it hath felt the Winter cold,  
You may next Spring turn up, & rake the mould.  
This done, your Box in various forms dispose,  
Such as were heretofore unknown to those,  
Whose gardens nothing owed to modern art;  
Decked by what kinder Nature did impart,  
Among ignobler Plants you then might view,  
Where blushing Roses intermingled grew:  
No spacious Walks, no Alleys were designed,  
Edged by green Box, all yet was unrefined.   

Flora at first was unadorned, and rude;  
Happening at Liber's Orgies to intrude.  
The Feast approached, the neighbouring Deities  
Were present; thither old Silenus hies,  
Mounted on's Ass; with whom the Satyrs join  
In drunken Bacchanals, and sparkling Wine.  
Here Cibele through Phrygia so revered.  
And with the rest our Flora too appeared:  
Her hair upon her shoulders loosely played;  
Or pride, or beauty this neglect had made.  
How e'er it was, the other Goddesses  
Laughed, and despised the rudenss of her dress.  
This pity moved in Berecinthia's heart,  
Who grieved to see her Daughter want that art,  
Which others used; and therefore to repair  
Those imperfections, she adorned her hair  
With various flowers; her temples these enclose,  
And Box which Nature on each field bestows.  
Her Mine's now alt'red, every charming grace  
Strives to be most conspicuous in her face.   

As this to Flora greater beauty gives;  
So hence the Gardener all his art derives.  
The Romans, and the Grecians knew not how  
To form their Paths, and set their Flowers as now.  
Goodness of air and soil perhaps might be  
Occasions of our curiosity  
In Gardens; and the Genius too of France,  
With time, this blessed improvement might advance.   

So that if you a Villa do desire  
With Gardens, for a skilful man inquire;  
Who with his Pencil can on Parchment draw  
The form of your intended Work. No flaw,  
No error 'scapes you: Thus deformity  
Timely appears to your considerate eye.   

In thousand Figures some their Box enfold,  
As was the Cretan Labyrinth of old.  
These artificial Mazes some reject,  
Who more the Phrygian Flourishes affect:  
And these as many various textures taught,  
As uncombed wool by Tyrian Virgins wrought.  
Others with Squares, less different, strive to please  
Themselves, in which the fragrant flowers with ease,  
And pleasure too, may stoop to the command  
Of the spectator's eye, and gath'rers hand.   

I will not divers knots to you suggest,  
To choose of them which please your fancy best;  
That is preferable beyond compare,  
Which with the scantling of your ground doth square.   

When all things thus provided are, again  
Levelly your ground, that, being smooth & plain,  
Garden, and borders both may even be,  
Admitting no irregularity.   

As soon as snowy Winter disappears,  
In planting Box employ your Labourers:  
You must not trifle then, let no delay  
Retard, when Sun and temperate air give way:   

Where smaller limits cannot this afford,  
With brick they must contented be, or board:  
For Box would there the flowers over-shade,  
And too much of the narrow spot invade.  
This rule for larger Gardens was not meant,  
Where Box is thought the greatest ornament.  
And howsoe'er you cultivate a place;  
If it wants Box, you take away its grace.   

In flowers so great a difference we find,  
Do we regard their natures, or their kind;  
That a good Florist cannot do amiss,  
To learn their natures, and their properties:  
Chiefly the seasons when to set and Sow,  
And in what soil what Plants do use to grow.  
The seeds, and sorts of flowers no number own;  
Neither is that of Bulbous roots more known.  
The tenderness of some makes them desire  
Propitious Spring, that then they may aspire  
Into the air; while others which are bold,  
Contemn North-winds, and flourish through the cold.  
These love the warmer sun; those, cooler shade.  
Nor is the vigour equally conveyed  
To all from th' earth; for flowers will abound  
Sometimes in dry, oft in unfruitful ground.  
Earth that is barren, and does stones produce,  
Though often 'tis improper, is of use  
Sometimes in raising flowers: Therefore again  
I must give warning to the Husbandman,  
That he observe the seasons, and with care  
Read the contents of the Celestial Sphere:  
That he take notice in the monthly state,  
And order, how the Stars discrminate.  
What alterations, in the calmer air?  
The East, and troubled Southern winds prepare:  
That from the Rise and Setting of the Sun,  
And by the aspect of the horned Moon,  
Showers to come, and tempests he presage,  
And how to Heaven we may our faith engage.  
Wherein the greater and the lesser Bear  
Does your Plantations infest, or spare:  
How far the Hyads with excessive showers,  
And the Atlantic Pleiads hurt your flowers.  
Who th' observation of the stars neglect,  
Too late are sensible of their effect.  
They with our labours correspondence hold,  
And all the secrets of our Art enfold.   

To be more sure, you ought before to know  
The Winds, and different Quarters whence they blow.  
Else other Gardens you in vain admire;  
Though Western Breezes with the Spring conspire,  
Yet no appearance of the Winds obey;  
For most of all they now their faith betray.  
If Aries with his golden fleece appear,  
And Zephyrus foretells the Spring is near;  
Yet some unlucky Planet menaces  
The Fields, and Gardens, and disturbs the Skies.  
The Southwind now against the Corn, and Flowers,  
Rages with frequent and destructive showers.  
Of the remaining cold we should beware,  
And see if aught of Winter hang i'th' air;  
It's cruel footsteps often stay behind:  
Therefore remember still to bear in mind  
The Seasons that most proper are to sow;  
For thus your seed will prosper best, and grow.  
As soon as e'er the knots have filled their space,  
Lest noxious weeds should overspread the place,  
Between the Borders, and the Beds, you may  
Lay Gravel, and so take the weeds away;  
For if you suffer them to get to head,  
Mallows & Thistles o'er your walks will spread.  
But let not this check your design at all;  
The earth in time will be reciprocal.  
No sooner has the Sun o'ercome the cold,  
When with astonishment you will behold  
Your Gardens riches, whither far then snow,  
On a broad leaf the Primrose first will blow.  
It keeps not always constant to a die,  
But loves its colours to diversify.  
The Grecian Cyclamine from far they bring,  
The red and white both flourish in the Spring;  
Woody Zacynthus, stony Coritus,  
And Corcyraean Mountains these produce:  
I'th' Summer months they flourish, and though late,  
In Autumn too their flowers propagate.   

These Season soft Fumaria too obeys,  
And in Bavarian Rocks itself displays  
In various colours; but is known to die;  
Soon as we hear th' Artill'ry of the Sky;  
Blasted by Sulphurous vapours, as if dead,  
It droops, and yields to th' earth its vanquished head.  
Now Iris springs, which from the heavenly Bow,  
Is named, and doth as many colours show.  
Its Species, and its Tinctures different are,  
According to the seasons of the year.   

By th' coming of the Swallows we divine,  
'Twill not be long before that Celandine,  
Which from that bird alone its name derives,  
Favoured by gentler Western-winds revives.   

Golden Narcissus also now aspires;  
Who looking on himself, himself admires,  
He fond tempting the destructive Power  
Of Beauty, from a Boy became a Flower.   

Nor longer can the Violets suppress  
Their odours, clouded in a rustic dress;  
Girt round with Leaves, without varieties  
Of colours, from the humble turf they rise.  
If we may credit what the Poets write,  
She was Diana's Nymph, her sole delight.  
With her janthis followed in each chase,  
Next to the Goddess, after none in place.  
As she was feeding the Pherean Cows,  
By Phoebus seen, in love with her he grows:  
Nor could he long conceal within his breast  
Loves wound, the frighted Maiden strait addressed  
Herself to th' Goddess. Ah! dear sister, fly,  
Said she, if you'll preserve Virginity  
Untouched: you must all open grounds sorbear,  
And lofty hills, for he'll pursue you there.  
To Thickets, and forsaken Vales she hies,  
And all alone by shady Fountains lies.  
Nor did her modesty her form depress,  
But she was valued more, for her recess.  
The God perceiving nothing else avail,  
Attempts by theft, and cunning to prevail.  
Diana then foreseeing 'twas in vain  
To think with life her honour to maintain;  
Ah! let that beauty perish then, she said,  
And soon a duskish colour did invade  
The changing Nymph, who rather chose to be  
Still virtuous, though with deformity.  
The fields and lower valleys these afford,  
And among brambles of their own accord,  
They spring; nor should their site at all abate  
Of their esteem, whose value is so great.   

If sharper could give leave, about this time  
The Hyacinth shoots up from Phoebus' crime.  
At Quoits he playing, by Eurota's side,  
Chanced the boy's tender temples to divide.  
The God and youth at once appalled stood?  
He through his guilt, and he through want of blood;  
From which, in pity of his angry fate,  
A flower arose, which oft does change its state,  
And colour; and to one peculiar kind,  
No more then to one season is confined.   

Now Meadow-Saffron divers colours yields;  
And on a slender stalk adorns the fields.   

Th' earth grown by reason of internal heat,  
Patient of Culture, let your Gardener set  
In beds prepared, what Seeds he does intend  
For Summer, and with care their growth attend  
As Linum, Caltha, Lychnis, Cyanies,  
Malva, Delphinium, and Anthemis,  
With fragrant Melilot for seed received,  
In ground before prepared, may be relieved,  
If th' earth defective be by being dressed;  
Or by refreshing streams if drought molest:  
It were an endless labour to set down  
The flowers, which in the Spring are to be sown  
The moister Spring makes all in time appear;  
And shows the hopes of the succeeding year.   

Then, above all the flowers in the bed,  
The Crown Imperial elevates his head:  
Around him all the numerous vulgar spring;  
As if they humbly would salute their King.   

Beneath the top a golden Crown is placed;  
This by a verdant tuft of leaves is graced:  
Four flowers, with leaves inverted to the earth,  
Do from one stalk alone derive their birth.  
Nor would there any other this excel,  
If to its Beauty, were but added smell.   

Let not your Tulips, through the vernal showers,  
Make too much haste, to spread abroad their flowers.  
For th' heavy aspects of the Moon would prove,  
With frost pernicious to them which love  
To flourish most; when Winter's cold gives way,  
And glad some Sun shine does serene the day.  
Then on the beds in thicker ranks they stand,  
And in the air their spotted leaves expand.  
Their beauty chiefly from their colour flows;  
For whither on the leaves they do enclose  
A snowy whiteness intermixed with red;  
Or like the Crimson Blood a Purple shed;  
Or the deep Murrey into Wan decayed;  
Like a pale Widow under a black shade;  
Or in stripped strikes with pied Achates vies,  
The Tulip from the rest still bears the prize.   

Though now a flower, yet Dalmatis before,  
Hard by Timavus Sping a blue Nymph bore;  
This was her mother: changing Proteus  
Her Father was; whose fickle Genius  
She follows, when Vertumnus had searched o'er  
The world, at last near to Timavus shore,  
In the Illyrian bounds, the Maid he sees;  
And while with flattering words he strives to please  
His Mistress, she from his addresses flies,  
Though in her colours he diversifies  
Himself, yet still she frustrate his desires;  
And would not nourish his unlawful fires.  
At last, in hopes this would all doubts remove,  
He tells her he's a God, a God in love.  
Yet she persists; which causes him to try  
By force to make the tender Maid comply:  
Now she implores the Gods, and by their power  
T' avoid the ravisher, becomes a flower.  
The ornaments and fillets which adorned  
Her head and golden hair, to leaves were turned.  
Where her breast was, a slender stalk does grow '  
Gird with a tuft of spreading leaves below;  
In an orbic'lar figure, like a Cup,  
Upon this stalk a slower rises up,  
Consisting of six leaves, which proudly show  
The different colours Nature can bestow.   

This Nymph, though now a Flower, cannot yet  
Her fancy for strange coloured clothes forget.   

In the worst mould this flower better thrives;  
And barren earth miraculously gives  
More beauty to it, than a fertile ground,  
And when least strong, it is most comely found.  
If to your Tulips you will add more grace,  
'Tis best to set them in a fainter place.  
For if you put them in a richer bed,  
The goodness of the soil will make them red.   

Wen out of every bed the flowers disclose  
Themselves, if that the humid Southwind blows,  
Or from the drier North if Boreas move,  
Bring Garlands to the Altars; for they love  
With these to be adorned. Thus Glycera  
Appeased great jove, and did the storms allay.  
A flowery Wreath was then the ornament,  
With which the modest temples were content.  
Profuseness had not on the vulgar gained;  
And Vows to lesser bounds were then restrained.   

I by my own experience do find,  
That a wet April with a Southern wind,  
Destroys the horror of the Spring again,  
And makes our early expectations vain.  
Throughout the Sabine Valleys heretosore  
Bathed all in Wine, the Shepherds used t'adore  
Celestial Pales: Hay was th' Ossering,  
Which for their Seed & Cattle they did bring;  
The Chaff consumed th' Infernals to appease:  
Them with their Februan Rites they strove to please.   

That Month o'er which the Ram is precedent,  
Brings forth the Bellides, the ornament  
Of Virgins now, though heretofore they were  
Nymphs of the Meads themselves; among them are  
Those of the Woods, whose stalks discriminate  
Their Species, from them which propagate  
Themselves in Gardens, made of finer threads,  
On lesser stalks these show their painted heads.   

The white Etrurian Iris now appears;  
But those are yellow, Lusitania bears:  
One, for its figure, is by some desired;  
The other, for its colour, more admired.   

With leaves condensed on the Iberian hills  
Exalted high, now springs the daffodils;  
And Watermint in moister vales we find,  
For Garlands fit, when 'tis with Myrtle joined.  
With its three colours too the flower of jove  
We see, which had it Smell, would equal prove  
To th' Violets: Adonis also flowers,  
Whose loss Idalian Venus so deplores.   

And thou Ranunculus, whose fame resounds  
Among the Nymphs that dwell in Lybian bounds.  
Thou through the fields in particoloured dress  
Aspirest, thy paleness does thy thoughts confess.  
The lovesick youth once with the same desire  
Inflamed himself, and set the Nymphs on fire.   

These flowers with easy culture are content;  
The Mattock, Rake, or other Instrument,  
They trouble not; for if with fastened root  
Into the air they once but dare to shoot,  
The bed once made, by watering them you gain  
So much of pleasure for so little pain.  
Nor yellow Calthae with their paler light  
Would I forget, showed first to Acis sight  
On the Sicilian shore; which from the Sun,  
Towards which they look, draw their complexion.   

With curled threads, and top divided now  
Along the margin of your borders grow  
Stock-Gilly-flow'rs, whose blushing leaf may fear,  
And justly too, the sharpness of the air.  
Therefore because they cannot well preserve  
Themselves against ill weather, they deserve  
A place in earthen pots; the best defence  
Against the North, and Winter's violence.  
Then if November with its horrid showers  
Should rage, it cannot prejudice your flowers.  
For thus disposed, when danger menaces,  
To warmer sheds they are removed with ease.   

Our fields may now of that Sambucus boast,  
Which first was borrowed from the Geldrian Coast;  
It's candid flowers when they themselves dilate,  
Do most the swelling Roses imitate.   

To make the year prove kind, Postumius  
I' th' Mayan Calends fi●st did introduce  
The Rites of Flora; for the Husbandman  
In Rural matters newly then began  
T'employ himself, his hair with Privet bound;  
About the place the Floral Rites resound.  
Swains to their Temples pleited Garlands join;  
Then newblown flowers they offered at the Shrine  
O'th' Goddess; for such Off'rings as these  
Did best the Mother of the flowers appease.  
But when the Ram, who boldly heretofore  
Upon his back essayed to carry o'er  
His Helle, disappears, from other seed  
Another race of flowers will succeed.  
If with kind aspects gentle Mercury  
Favour his mother Maia from the Sky;  
If the Olenian Goat no storms portend,  
And no black showers from the clouds descend;  
Now, more than ever, will the wanton ground  
With all the Species of Herbs abound.  
The prickly Hedges now their Odours give;  
And Tam'risks with their precious leaves revive.  
Soft Cicer too will flourish, and green Broom,  
With Colocasia which from Egypt come;  
Acanthus girt with knots, and thorns, we see,  
And bright Parthenium, with Rosemary,  
Triorchis, Sage, and Parsley, once the Meed,  
Which to the Istmian Victor was decreed;  
Dames Violets appear, with Meadow-Rue;  
Among the Alps Phalangium we pursue.  
Through Allobrogian Vales Isopyrum,  
Time, Rhamnus, Housleek, and Antirrhinum,  
With woody Nard, Arcadian Moly that  
Which Homer's Poems so much celebrate.  
By the same culture these we raise from Seed:  
With them invest your fields, let every bed  
Be then replenished; for a naked space  
The honour of your Garden would disgrace.  
The Seasons known, next learn how deep in mould  
You ought the seeds of flowers to enfold.   

Among high branches lofty Peony  
Proudly aspires, stained with a Crimson-dye.  
A colour, as it guilty odours show,  
Its crimes, and not its blushes did bestow.  
A happy Nymph, if her more peaceful hours  
Had not been troubled by divine amours;  
Mortal addresses she refused, as vain,  
Guarding Alcinous sheep upon the Plain.  
And nothing yet perhaps had made her yield,  
Till an immortal Lover won the field.   

Convolvulus disdaining to be bound  
With divers flowers dilated, now is found  
In the moist Vales; then mighty Nature wrought,  
While Lilies once employed her busy thought,  
A little work, if with the rest compared;  
When she to greater things her self prepared.   

Blue-bottle, Lark-spur, of their own accord  
Now in the fields their different leaves afford.  
Painted Blattaria, poisonous Aconite  
Wolss-grass, wild Basil, Fennel which delight  
In various forms and colours all, and now  
Along the borders all their beauties show.   

These, and a thousand others will contend  
T'enrich your Garden; Odours too ascend  
Spreading themselves through the serener air,  
Where gentle breezes strive to bless the year.  
This makes the fertile Meadows all rejoice,  
And Philomela with her charming voice;  
And this invites the wanton flocks to play,  
As they amidst their fruitful Pastures stray.   

Who could be so unkind as to persuade,  
I should for th'Town forsake my Countreyshade?  
Such joys I'll ever love, and should be glad  
At those delightful Rivers to be stayed,  
Near thee, O Tours, between the Cherseoli and Loir,  
Where we the Rural Miracles admire  
Of France. Thou native Soil of Gardens hail!  
To the Surrentine Hills, the Sabine Vale,  
Or the Oebalian fields thou giv'st not place.  
Thee soft Ferentum, nor the Bantine Chase  
Excel, nor what Phalantus did possess,  
Or the sweet shades which happy Tibur bless.   

Besides the Coast with Streams and Fountains graced,  
And on each side vast tracts of Meadows placed;  
The neighbouring Hills all set with Vines, the Town,  
Which its rich merchandizes so renown;  
The people's inclinations, whose soft clime  
Has rendered them polite, they spend their time  
In silken works; here shady Woods are seen,  
And Meadows covered with eternal green:  
Gardens, as if immortal, ne'er decay,  
And fading flowers to fresher still give way.   

Such is Saint Germans, which the Powers of France  
Inhabit, or the Vale of Mommorance,  
Such fields are washed by th' Sein; Medun's like this;  
And such Saint Cloud, with famous Ruel is.   

The Pensile Gardens of Semiramis,  
The Orchard kept by the Hesperideses,  
Whose Apples watched by Dragons are believ'd;  
Or vain Elysium of the Greeks received;  
Cannot approach the Streams, and Groves, which France  
Adorn, or the proud Structures which advance  
Her Fame, where powerful Art with Nature strives,  
And Rivers into large Canales derives.   

From Taurus' front in june the Hyadeses  
Appear, and lowering clouds disturb the Skies;  
With prayers therefore you must Heaven appease,  
And by devotion make the tempests cease:  
Then will the earth be spangled o'er anew,  
And high-topt Lychnis brings itself in view.  
Asphodel too, by learned Hesiod prized,  
Whose roots out temperate Ancestors sufficed.  
Next these the greater Cyanies, which bring  
Their name of old from a Bizantine King.  
The Shield-leaved Cress, and Cityssus both feigned,  
In humane figures to be once contained:  
The first, a famous Dardan Hunter was;  
The last, a Shepherd of the Argive race.   

Like the Conebearing Cypress now we see  
Linaria, which obtained in Italy  
A better name, by them called Belvedere;  
Nor Aquilegia longer can defer  
To flower, its leaves a Violet-purple stains,  
With Anthemis, as long as Taurus reigns,  
It grows: The flower of Helen too ascends,  
Which in itself both colours comprehends.  
That Helen ancient Ilium did destroy;  
Her eyes, and not the Greeks, set fire on Troy.  
She Asia filled, and Europe with alarms,  
And her high quarrel put the world in arms.  
Then Germane Fox-glove, with discoloured rays,  
And lovely Calamint itself displays:  
Thryallis, Anthora, AEthiopis,  
With Scylla, whose thrice flow'ring signifies,  
Like Lentisk, the three Seasons fit to plow.  
Lytrum, obscure Cerynthe, All-heal too  
Will show itself, known by its Tyrian dye,  
With multitudes of the ignobler fry.   

Now I perceive from whence these Odours flow;  
While on the Roses kinder Zephyrs blow.  
Out of the prickly stalk the Purple-flow'r  
Springs, and commands the vulgar to adore.  
The Garden-Queen does now herself display,  
Soiling the lustre of the rising day.  
And Cynthia too withdraws her wearied sight,  
Grown pale, and vanquished by excess of light.  
She, who not yet had spread her tender leaves,  
Impatient now of her confinement, cleaves  
Through all impediments; her form divine  
Speaking her justly of a Royal Line.  
Her blushing modesty would make you guess,  
That she was chaste, if not her Virgin-dress.  
Therefore since Blood and Virtue so agree,  
It shows her Chasteness, and her Majesty.   

The Amazonians falsely do combine  
Among themselves to place this Heroine.  
Falsely, I say; for she's to Greece allowed,  
Where Sea-girt Corinth to her Sceptre bowed.  
Fame of her Beauty spreads through every place,  
And Kings themselves pay homage to her Face.  
Warlike Halesus first of all arrives,  
Then high born Brias, who himself derives,  
From sevenfold Nile; next Ax-armed Arcas hies,  
Covered with Laurels, proud of Victories;  
Which after various perils undergone,  
His conquering arms on Theban Plains had won.  
All these he prostrates at her Royal Feet,  
In hope such Offerings might acceptance meet.   

Proud of her Beauty, she replies, her charms  
Yield not to such mean Arts, but manly Arms.  
No longer hearkens to their idle vows,  
But in the midst of armed Troops she goes  
To Phoebus, and his sister's fane, desires  
Diana's aid against immodest fires.  
The surious Lovers now with force attaque  
The Queen, the Temple-doors they open break.  
From whence repelled, their Mistress makes them feel  
The dire effects of her enraged steel.   

Perhaps her courage, more than feminine,  
Mingled with modest blushes made her shine  
More splendidly; or else some fresh supplies  
Of lightning were conspicuous in her eyes.  
Something there was that had amazed the rude  
And duller Genius of the multitude:  
For with loud shouts they daringly prefer  
Rhodanthes' name before Diana's: her  
They now adore, and in the Goddess stead,  
Cry out Rhodanthe shall be deified  
When learned Apollo from the Azure Sky  
Beheld Rhodanthes great impiety,  
With vengeful flames, that did obliquely glide,  
He makes her curse her sacrilegious pride.  
Close to the Altar now her feet are joined;  
Which spreading roots do yet more firmly bind.  
Her arms are boughs; and though she senseless grows,  
Yet great and comely in her change she shows.  
She had not less perfection, than before;  
And fair Rhodanthe is as fair a flower:  
Happy, if she had never merited  
Those honours which to her destruction led.   

Apollo's vengeance stops not coldly here;  
The irreligious vulgar now appear  
Transformed to thorns; which in that shape contend  
With dreadful points Rhodanthe to defend.  
Into a Butterfly Halesus goes;  
Arcas t' a Drone; while valiant Brias grows  
A Caterpillar; who with one consent  
Their former Mistress in new shapes frequent.   

And though this flower be justly placed above  
All others, yet it does not lasting prove.  
Thus the best things do soon bend to Fate;  
And nothing can be durable that's great.   

I cannot all the Species rehearse  
Of Roses, in the narrow bounds of Verse.  
Some curled, some waved about the top are found,  
And others with a thousand leaves are crowned;  
Through which the flaming colours do appear.  
Others are single, not t' insist on here  
Either the Damask, or Numidian Rose,  
Or Cistus, which in Lusitania grows.  
Roses unarmed, if you the earth prepare,  
May be produced; but they in danger are;  
Because unguarded; for what excellence  
Can be secure on earth without defence?  
Though Saliunca to the Roses yields,  
Yet it will add some beauty to our fields.   

These flowers are quickly subject to decay,  
And when Orion shines, they fade away.  
In Pots the candid Hyacinths remain  
Entire, which from their tub'rous roots obtain  
Another name; our Merchants those of late  
From the far distant Indies did translate:  
Their station first in Italy they had;  
And then to Rome, and Latium were conveyed.  
From whence all Europe has been furnished, where  
In every Garden now they domineer.  
Not only boasting of the native Snow,  
Which decks their front, but of their Odours too.   

If ever any flowers you admire,  
These above all will greatest care require.  
In earthen Vasa's when they are secure,  
The shocks of wind and rain they best endure.  
And lest the parching rays of Sirius prove  
Destructive, you must soon your flower remove  
Into your house; nor think it labour lost,  
That cannot be unworthy of your cost;  
Which, to adorn, and to augment our store,  
By Sea we borrow from the farthest shore.   

Nor Cymbalum will long be wanting found  
With Purple Flowers inverted to the ground.  
The only natural difference we see  
Of them, and Lilies since their smells agree.  
Chrysanthes next with radiant threads appears,  
Its leaf a deep Sidonlan tincture bears.  
And though Amaracus at first may seem  
Unworthy of a place in your esteem,  
Contemn it not; for it will recompense  
The want of form, in pleasing th' other sense.  
Venus with fragrant smell did heretofore  
Endue this Plant hard by deep Simois shore.   

Yarrow will now a thousand leaves expose,  
And Summer Iris various colours shows.  
With, Malva, Linum, yellow Melilot,  
And red Ononis too; whose binding root  
Does oft the tardy Husbandman molest,  
And stops the progress of his labouring beast:   

The Nymphs may now frequent the verdant Meads,  
And make them pleited Chaplets for their heads:  
Their hands, and Ozier baskets may be filled  
With flowers, which spread themselves o'er every field.   

But let all Nymphs that tragic use avoid,  
By which th' Egyptian Queen herself destroyed.  
When vanquished Antony from Actium ran,  
Leaving Augustus th' Empire of the Main;  
She fearing to adorn his victory,  
Rather chose death, then living in famy.  
But lest her resolutions should be known,  
Beneath the flowers the poisonous Asps were thrown.  
Thus she expired in death with pleasure blest,  
Applying fatal Serpents to her breast.   

Flowers in many things convenient are;  
Our Tables, and our Cupboards we prepare  
With them; and better to disfuse their scent,  
We place them in our Rooms for ornament.  
By others into Garlands they are wrought;  
And so for off rings to the Altars brought.  
Sometimes to Prince's Banquets they ascend,  
And to their Tables fragrant Odours lend;  
As oft they serve to grace a temperate Mess,  
Where the content is more, the plenty less.   

Nor want there those, who with sublime skill,  
In hollow Limbecks flowers can distil.  
Now with a slow, now with a quicker fire  
They work, which makes the vapour straight aspire  
To the cool brass, whence heated once anew,  
It gently trickles into Pearly dew.  
The Spirit thus of flowers is conveyed  
To Water, and by trial stronger made.   

Unguents from them are drawn, such as of old  
To rub the hair Capuan Seplasia sold;  
Capua, whose soft delights, and pleasing charms  
Proved worse than Cannae to the Punic arms.  
Where Hannibal that enemy to peace,  
Indulged himself to luxury and ease,   

Painting itself, from flowers we derive,  
Whose colours did the first examples give.  
By Glycera Pausiades thus taught,  
Painted the different flowers which she brought  
From them, & by the care of those that wove,  
Such great improvements figured Silks receive.   

And from that Nectar which the flowers contain,  
Industrious Bees their Honey too obtain,   

I should too tedious be, if I should sing  
The mighty aids which herbs and flowers bring  
To the Diseases men are subject to:  
For these the Gods with virtue did endue.   

Near Paris, where the rapid Sein does glide,  
In a sub urban Villa did reside  
A single man; his Garden was his Wife;  
And his delight a solitary life.  
Few Acres were the limits of his land;  
No costly Tapestry his walls profaned:  
And yet he was as satisfied as those,  
On whom too partial fortune oft bestows  
Her greatest favours, since'tis not excess,  
But moderation causes happiness,  
From Regions far remote he flowers brought,  
And wholesome herbs on distant Mountains sought.  
Into his Garden these he did translate,  
And to his friends their qualities relate.   

He could not long enjoy his solitude,  
Fame soon attracts the neighbouring multitude;  
Who importune him that he would impart  
His skill, and not conceal his powerful art.  
Those who of shortness in their breath complained,  
And in whose bowels scorching Fevers reigned;  
Some for ill humours, joints ne'er standing still,  
And beating at the heart, implored his skill.  
Those, whom Physicians long had given o'er,  
He by reviving Medicines did restore.  
But he that could renew lost health again,  
Deserves the praises of a better Pen.   

Peruvian Granadil in Summer blows,  
Which near the Amazonian River grows.  
Nature herself this flowers leaves divides  
Into three parts, and waves them on the sides.  
From a tall stalk sharp prickles it does send,  
Like those that do the Holy Thorn defend:  
With triple-pointed leaves resembling those  
Accursed Nails, which fixed Christ to the Cross.   

Next painted Meleagris, Echium show  
Themselves with Rumex, Adianium too,  
And Hesperis; to which the influence  
Of Phoebus' various colours dispense.   

Lovely Carnations then their flowers dilate;  
The worth of them is, as their beauty, great.  
Their Smell is excellent; a Cod below  
Restrains the swelling leaves, which curled grow  
Divided too; this flower exacts our care:  
For if th' extremes of heat or cold the air  
Molest too much, they're blasted in their birth,  
Unable to aspire above the earth.  
Morning and evening therefore you must choose  
To water them, or else their charms they lose.   

Hemerocallis next we see, whose name  
Deservedly from its short duration came.  
Its flowers always do obliquely bend,  
And into purple leaves themselves extend.  
With numbers of them all your Garden store,  
While they are fresh you will admire them more.   

If poisonous Orobanche should by chance,  
Among the rest, its noxious head advance;  
Let not your Cattle eat it, lest they find  
Too late the dire effects it leaves behind.  
Cows set on fire by its pernicious taste,  
Without delay, strait to engender haste.  
Whole flocks besides, as if they were untamed,  
Stray through the Woods with lustful rage inflamed.   

High Matricaria on long branches shows  
Her candid flowers: about them Thlaspis grows.  
Thlaspis was once a Cretan youth; he loved  
This Nymph; & their amours had happy proved  
If fate had crowned their innocent delights,  
With less unlucky Hymeneal Rites.   

Chamaedris near cold Springs new vigour takes;  
Nature its leaves like saws indented makes.  
Two sorts of the wild Orchis now appear;  
And on their leaves two different colours bear.  
Within a while your Garden waxes white,  
And snowy flowers will surprise your sight.  
For if the Summer does not late arrive,  
On verdant stalks the Lilies will revive.   

France more than any Nation has preferred  
This flower, some say, from Phrygla 'twas transferred  
By Francus, sprung from Hector; full o'th' fame  
Of his great Aucestours; that his own name  
Might be extolled, remoter Climes he sought,  
And settling here to us our Lilies brought.  
But our Forefathers, by Tradition, prove  
They fell, like the Ancile, from above.  
Saint Clodovaeus, who did first advance  
The Doctrine, and the Faith of Christ in France,  
With his pure hands received the heavenly gift  
And to the care of his Successors left;  
That it should be preserved from age to age  
His Kingdom's Ensign, and praedestined Badge.  
These Arms shall flourish, when propitious fate  
In lasting peace shall on great Lewis wait.  
When he th' affrighted world shall have composed,  
And all the wounds of war and tumult closed;  
When fraud and murder he has put to flight,  
And with firm Leagues he shall mankind unite.   

Now for past loves unhappy Clytie grieves,  
And paleness from the parching Sun receives.  
She aspires o'er other flowers, in hopes, by chance  
Her former lover might vouchsafe a glance.   

Crosus, and Smilax too in june appear,  
Which heretofore did humane bodies wear.  
Their tufted heads when Poppies have exposed,  
And th' earth for new productions is disposed;  
To make her riches in more splendour shine,  
In the same flower different colours join.  
To Eleusinian Ceres Poppies owe  
Their rise; with purple leaves some higher grow:  
But the white kind a die, like silver, yields,  
Showing the modest treasures of the fields.  
The Seeds to Med'c'nal uses are applied,  
And often in Diseases have been tried.  
Sometimes shortwinded Coughs they moderate,  
And welcome sleep in sickly men create.   

In Greece Eryngus is deservedly sought;  
Born in a Woman's Breast, while green, 'tis thought  
An antidote against all lustful fires;  
And to allay a Husband's wild desires.  
Phaon did thus his Sappho's love obtain,  
If the records of time may credit gain.   

But while the Dog-star rages in the Sky,  
And cruel Clouds their wont showers deny;  
When burning Phoebus lengthens out the days,  
Scattering the dew by his refulgent rays;  
Lest all your Plants should at the root decay,  
And wanting moisture quickly fade away;  
From neighbouring Fountains flow your Garden o'er,  
Such vital drops will life again restore.  
For now Aurora no refreshment gives,  
No humid dew the dying grass relieves.   

Among the flowers, which late i'th' year arrive,  
Immortal Amaranthus will survive.  
For at that time an unknown multitude  
Of vulgar flowers will themselves extrude.  
Conyza, Horminum, Hedysarum,  
Angelica, small Henbane, Apium,  
Marchmallows, woad, Armeria, Clematis,  
With trembling Coriander, Barberis,  
Both the Abrotonums, Myrrh, Centory,  
Slender Melissa, Sium, Cicory,  
Buphthalmum, Stoechas, Hyosedamus,  
And spotted Calendule their flowers produce.  
Mint, and Nigella too; with these we see  
The Summer thus and Autumn still agree  
To fructify, and thus the year goes round,  
While every season is with flowers crowned.   

The golden Attic Star in Meadows reigns,  
So termed by Greece; but by the Latin Swains,  
Amellus: In wet Vales, near Fountain sides,  
It grows, or where some crooked Maeander glides.  
In making nooses it is useful found,  
When the ripe Vintage hangs upon the ground.   

Purple Narcissus of japan now flowers,  
Its leaves so shine, as if with golden showers  
It had been wet; which makes it far outvie  
The lustre of Phoenician Tapestry.  
Therefore t'augment the grace of France, 'tis fit  
This flower into our Gardens we admit.  
'Tis true, it hardly answers our desires  
At first, but longer culture still requires.  
Yet let not this occasion our despair,  
When once it blows, 'twill recompense our care.   

The Box about the borders, every year,  
About the Spring, or Autumn always shear.  
It's best to let the Boughs be mollified  
By rain, which makes them easier to divide.   

But you must know, that flowers are not all  
Deduced at first from one original:  
For some alone from tub'rous roots proceed,  
From Bulbous some, and others rise from seed.   

The Beds we in October should disclose,  
And on large floors the Bulbous roots expose  
To th' air, that the Sun's rays may then attract  
That moisture which in Summer they contract,  
By lying under ground; thus purged and clean,  
After some time they may be set again.  
And better to resist the Winter's cold,  
They must be deeply buried in their mould.   

But with less care we set the tub'rous root,  
That of its own accord will downward shoot.  
While others if not deeply placed are lost,  
As well by drought, as by the piercing frost.   

Perhaps your stupid labourers may not know  
The Seasons that convenient are to Sow.  
Therefore you must observe, if Scorpio meet  
Erigone, and move his lazy feet.  
When the hoarse Crane cuts th'air with tardy wing,  
And makes the Clouds with horrid clangor ring.  
Then's the best time of all to plant your flowers,  
If humid Autumn but with moderate showers  
Some days before refresh the parched face  
Of th' earth, which in its bosom will embrace  
The Bulbous roots, and kindly warmth infuse,  
Supplying every branch with quick'ning juice.   

But lest the rain should stagnate, and be found  
By its unequal wetting of the ground.  
Hurtful to th' roots, by swelling banks you may  
All the superfluous water drain away.  
Our labourers thus the Royal Gardener taught;  
From him, this way of planting flowers they brought.  
In all that could improve, or grace the field,  
In all the arts of Culture he excelled.   

By the Moon's face you should the Seasons know,  
O'er tempests she, the air, and earth below  
An influence has; if she her Orb displays,  
Piercing the opacous Clouds with silver rays.  
When with soft breezes she inspires the air,  
And makes the winds their wont rage forbear.  
Till it be Full Moon, from her first increase,  
The Seasons good; but if she once decrease,  
Stir not the earth, nor let the Husbandman  
Sow any seed; when Heaven forbids, 'tis vain.  
You must obey, when th' heavenly Signs invite;  
Have the Parrhasian Stars still in your sight.  
Which less than any do their lustre hide;  
And best of all the erring Ploughman guide.   

Some in preparing of their seed excel,  
Making their flowers t' a larger compass swell  
Thus narrow bolls with curled leaves they fill,  
Helping defective nature by their skill.  
Others are able by their pow rful art,  
New odours, and new colours to impart;  
To change their figures, to retard their birth,  
Or make them sooner cleave their Mother Earth.  
These pleasures are with small expense and ease  
Obtained, if such delights your fancy please.   

Spite of hot Sirius Tanacetum lives,  
And, while he burns the fields, in afric thrives,  
It's lovely colours, and thick foliage  
Will allo flourish through the Winter's rage.  
This flower great Austrian Charles did here to fore  
Besieging Tunis, from the Punic shore  
Transmit to Spain. When frost first binds the ground,  
And sharp December spreads its ice aground  
I'th' Scythian Clime, in the Sarmatian fields,  
Distracting Hellebore black flowers yields.  
And yellow Aconites on th' Alps appear,  
Others at other seasons of the year.   

Now Persian Cyclamine, and Laurel blows,  
Which on the bank of winding Mosa grows.  
Broad-leaved Merascus, and green Sonchus live,  
With Crocus, which from jura we derive.  
The late Narcissus in these Months we find,  
And Winter Hyacinths; but from the wind,  
And kill frost, to save your flowers, draw  
Over your beds a covering of warm straw.  
Thus they avoid the Winter's violence,  
Till the kind Spring renews its insluence.   

What angry Deity did first expose  
To the rough tempests, and more rigid snows,  
The soft Antmony, whose comely grace  
A gentler season, and a better place  
Deservest For when with native purple bright  
It shows its leaves to the propitious light,  
With different colours stripped, and curled flames  
Encompassed, it out love and wonder claims.  
There is not any other that outvies  
This flowers curled leaves, or numerous dyes;  
Nor the Sidonian art could e'er compose  
So sweet a blush, as this by nature shows.   

Flora enraged, because she was so fair,  
Banished this Nymph into the open air;  
She was the boast and ornament of Greece,  
But beauty seldom meets with happiness.  
So't proved to her; for whilst the careless Maicl  
To take the air, about the fresh fields strayed:  
Strait jealous thoughts the angry Goddess move;  
Angry her Husband Zephyrus should love  
Aught but herself; th' effects of her disdain  
On Anemona light; her form in vain  
Adorns her now, to that she owed her fate:  
Less beauty might have made her fortunate.  
Thus she who once among the Nymphs excelled,  
Transformed is now the best of flowers held.   

While Venus for her loved Adonis grieved,  
After he had his mortal wound received;  
Her only comfort in this flower remained;  
For from his streaming blood, when she had drained  
All that was humane, and had sprinkled o'er  
The corpse with sacred juice; from the thick gore  
Immediately a purple flower arose,  
Which did a little recompense her loss.   

This flowers form and colours so invite,  
That some whole cases full of turf delight  
To sow with seed; which when they first arise,  
With colours pleasingly confused surprise.  
Victorious Gast● so this flower did grace,  
That in his Luxemburgh he gave it place;  
Called for the Pots; nor could at meals refrain,  
With it himself and Court to entertain.   

These in the Winter you should cultivate,  
That so upon the beds they may dilate  
Their percious flowers, which only can restore  
Your Gardens life; for when the frost before  
Destroyed without repulse, these triumph still,  
And conquer that which all the rest does kill.  
When others with dejected leaves do mourn,  
And wet Aquarius does discharge his urn;  
This with illustrious purple decks the fields,  
But if her Zephyrus kind breezes yields,  
She'll flourish more; by which we well may find,  
That to each other they are yet inclined.   

While with succeeding flowers the year is crowned,  
Whose painted leaves enamel all the ground;  
Admire not them, but with more grateful eyes  
To Heaven look, and their great Maker prize.  
In a calm night the earth and heaven agree,  
There radiant Stars, here brighter Flowers we see.    

RAPINUS OF GARDENS.  
Book II. Woods.  

LOng rows of Trees and Woods my pen invite,  
With shady Walks a Gardens chief delight:  
For nothing without them it pleasant made;  
They beauty to the ruder Country add.   

Ye Woods and spreading Groves afford my Muse  
That bough, with which the sacred Poets use  
T' adorn their brows; that by their pattern led,  
I with due Laurels may impale my head.   

Methinks the Okes their willing tops incline,  
Their trembling leaves applauding my design;  
With joyful murmurs, and unforced assent,  
The Woods of Gaul accord me their consent.  
Cithaeron I, and Menalus despise,  
Oft graced by the Arcadian Deities;  
I, nor Molorchus, or Dodona's Grove,  
Or thee crowned with black Okes, Calydne love;  
Cyllene thick with Cypress too I fly;  
To France alone my Genius I apply.   

Where noble Woods in every part abound,  
And pleasant Groves commend the fertile ground.   

If on thy native soil thou dost prepare  
T' erect a Villa, you must place it there,  
Where a free prospect does itself extend  
Into a Garden; whence the Sun may lend  
His influence from the East; his radiant heat  
Should on your house through various windows beat:  
But on that side which chiefly open lies  
To the Northwind, whence storms and showers arise,  
There plant a wood; for, without that defence,  
Nothing resists the Northern violence.  
While with destructive blasts o'er cliffs & hills  
Rough Boreas moves, & all with murmurs fills;  
The Oak with shaken boughs on mountains rents,  
The Valleys roar, and great Olympus bends.  
Trees therefore to the winds you must expose,  
Whose branches best their pow'rsul rage oppose   

Thus woods defend that part of Normandy,  
Which spreads itself upon the British Sea.  
Where trees do all along the Ocean side  
Great Villages and Meadows too divide.   

But now the means of raising woods I sing;  
Though from the parent Oak young shoots may spring,  
Or may transplanted flourish, yet I know  
No better means then if from seed they grow.  
'Tis true this way a longer time will need,  
And Okes but slowly are produced by seed:  
Yet they with far the happier shades are blest;  
For those that rise from Acorns, as they best  
With deep-fixt roots beneath the earth descend,  
So their large boughs into the air ascend.  
Perhaps because, when we young Sets translate,  
They lose their virtue, and degenerate.  
While Acorns better thrive, since from their birth  
They have been more acquainted with the earth   

Thus we to Woods by Acorns Being give:  
But yet before the ground your seed receive,  
To dig it first employ your labourer;  
Then levelly it; and, if young shoots appear  
Above the ground, sprung from the cloven bud;  
If th' earth be planted in the Spring, 'tis good  
Those weeds by frequent culture to remove,  
Whoseroots would to the blossoms hurtful prove  
Nor think it labour lost to use the Blow:  
By Dung and Tillage all things fertile grow.   

There are more ways than one to plant a Grove,  
For some do best a rude confusion love:  
Some into even squares dispose their trees,  
Where every side does equal bounds possess.  
Thus boxes legions with false arms appear  
At Chess, and represent a face of war.  
Which sport to Schaccia the Italians owe;  
The painted frames alternate colours show.  
So should the field in space and form agree;  
And should in equal bounds divided be.   

Whether you plant young Sets, or Acorns sow,  
Still order keep; for so they best will grow.  
Order to every tree like vigour gives,  
And room for the aspiring branches leaves.   

When with the leaf your hopes begin to bud,  
Banish all wanton Cattle from the wood.  
The browzing Goat the tender blossom kills;  
Let the swift Horse then neigh upon the hills,  
And the free Herds still in large Pastures tread;  
But not upon the new-sprung branches feed.  
For whose defence Enclosures should be made  
Of twigs, or water into rills conveyed.  
When ripening time has made your trees dilate,  
And the strong roots do deeply penetrate,  
All the superfluous branches must be felled,  
Lest the oppressed trunk should chance to yield  
Under the weight, and so its spirits lose  
In fuch excre●cencies; but as for those  
Which from the stock you cut, they better thrive,  
As if their ruin caused them to revive.  
And the slow Plant, which scarce advanced its head,  
Into the air its levy boughts will spread:   

When from the fastened root it springs amain,  
And can the fury of the North fustain;  
On the smooth bark the shepherds should indire  
Their rural strifes, and there their verses write.   

But let no impious axe profane the woods,  
Or violate the sacred shades; the Gods  
Themselves inhabit there. Some have be held  
Where drops of blood from wounded Okes distilled:  
Have seen the trembling boughs with horror shake!  
So great a conscience did the Ancients make  
To cut down Okes, that it was held a crime  
In that obscure and superstitious time.  
For Driopeius Heaven did provoke,  
By daring to destroy th' AEmonian Oak;  
And with it it's included Dryad ' too:  
A venging Ceres here her faith did show  
To the wronged Nymph; while Erisichthon bore  
Torments, as great as was his crime before.  
Therefore it well might belesteemed no less  
Than Sacrilege, when every dark recels  
The awful silence, and each gloomy shade,  
Was sacred by the zealous vulgar made.  
When e'er they cut down Groves, or spoiled the Trees,  
With gifts the Ancients Pales did appease.   

Due honours once Dodona's Forest had,  
When Oracles were through the Oaks convaid.  
When woods instructed Prophets to foretell,  
And the decrees of fate in trees did dwell.   

If the aspiring Plant large branches bear,  
And Beeches with extended arms appear;  
There near his flocks upon the cooler ground  
The Swain may lie, and with his Pipe resound  
His loves; but let no vice these shades disgrace:  
We ought to bear a reverence to the place.  
The boughs, th' unbroken silence of a wood,  
The leaves themselves demonstrate that some God  
Inhabits there, whose flames might be so just,  
To burn those groves that had been fired by lust   

But through the woods while thus the Rustics sport,  
Whole flights of Birds will thither too resort;  
Whose different notes and murmurs full the air:  
Thither sad Philomela will repair;  
Once to her sister she complained, but now  
She warbles forth her grief on every bough:  
Fills all with Tereus' crimes, her own hard sat;  
And makes the melting rocks compassionate.  
Disturb not birds which in your trees abide,  
By them the will of Heaven is signified:  
How oft from hollow Okes the boding Crow,  
The winds and future tempests does foreshow.  
Of these the wary Ploughman should make use;  
Hence observations of his own deduce:  
And so the changes of the weather tell.  
But from your Groves all hurtful birds expel.   

When e'er you plant, through Okes your Beech diffuse;  
The hard Male-oke, and lofty Cerrus choose.  
While Esculus of the mast-bearing kind,  
Chief in Ilicean Groves we always find.  
For it affords a far extending shade;  
Of one of these some times a wood is made.  
They stand unmoved, though winter does assail,  
Nor more can winds, or rain, or storms prevail.   

To their own race they ever are inclined,  
And love with their associates to be joined.  
When Fleets are rigged, and we to fight prepare,  
They yield us Plank, and furnish arms for war.  
Fuel to fire, to Plowmen Ploughs they give,  
To other uses we may them derive.  
But nothing must the sacred Tree profane:  
Some boughs for Garlands from it may be ta'en.  
For those whose arms their Countrymen preserve,  
Such are the honours which the Oaks deserve.  
We know not certainly whence first of all  
This Plant did borrow its original.  
Whether on Ladon, or on Maenalus  
It grew, if fat Chaonia did produce  
It first, but better from our Mother Earth,  
Then modern rumours we may learn their birth.  
When jupiter the world's foundation laid,  
Great Earthborn Giants Heaven did invade.  
And jove himself, (when these he did subdue,)  
His lightning on the factious brethren threw.  
Tellus her son's misfortunes does deplore;  
And while she cherishes the yet-warm gore  
Of Rhoecus, from his monstrous body grows  
A vaster trunk, and from his breast arose  
A hardened Oak; his shoulders are the same,  
And Oak his high exalted head became.  
His hundred arms which lately through the air  
Were spread, now to as many boughs repair.  
A sevenfold bark his now stiff trunk does bind;  
And where the Giant stood, a Tree we find.  
The earth to jove straight consecrates this Tree,  
Appeasing so his injured Deity;  
Then 'twas that man did the first Acorns eat.   

Although the honour of this Plant be great,  
Both for its shade. and that it sacred is;  
Yet when its branches shoot into the Skies,  
Let them take heed, while with his brandished flame,  
The thunderer rages, shaking Nature's frame.  
Lest they be blasted by his powerful hand,  
While Tamarisks secure, and Myrtles stand.   

The other parts of woods I now must sing;  
With Beech, and Oak, let Elm, and Linden spring.  
Nor may your Grove the Alder-tree disdain,  
Or Maple of a double-coloured grain.  
The fruitful Pine, which on the mountain stands,  
And there at large its noble front expands;  
Thick-shooting Hazle, with the Quick beam set,  
The Pitch-tree, Withy, Lotus ever wet;  
With well-made trunk here let the Cornel grow,  
And here Oriciau Terebinthus too;  
And warlike Ash: but Birch and Ewe repress;  
Let Pines and Sirs the highest hills possess:  
Brambles and Brakes fill up each vacant space  
With hurtful thorns; in your fields Walnuts place.  
And hoary junipers, with Chestnuts good,  
With hoops to barrel up Lyoeus blood.   

The difference which in planting each is found,  
Now learn; since th' Elm with happy verdure's crowned:  
Since its thick branches do themselves extend,  
And a fair bark does the tall trunk commend;  
With rows of Elm your garden or your field  
May be adorned, and the Sun's heat repelled.  
They best the borders of your walks compose;  
Their comely green still ornamental shows.  
On a large flat continued ranks may rise,  
Whose length will tyre our feet, and bound our eyes.  
The Gardens thus of Fountain-bleau are graced  
By spreading Elms, which on each side are placed.  
Where endless walks the pleased spectator views,  
And every turn the verdant Scene renews.   

The sage Gorycian thus his native field  
Near swift Oobalian Galesus tilled.  
A thousand ways of planting Elms he found;  
With them he would sometimes enclose his ground:  
Oft in director lines to plant he chose;  
From one vast tree a numerous offspring rose.  
Each younger Plant with its old Parent vies,  
And from its trunk like branches still arise.  
They hurt each other if too near they grow;  
Therefore to all a proper space allow.   

The Thracian Bard a pleasing Elm-tree chose,  
Nor thought it was below him to repose  
Beneath its shade, when he from hell returned,  
And for twice-lost Enrydice so mourned.  
Hard by cool Hebrus Rhodop ' does aspire;  
The Artist, here, no sooner touched his lyre,  
But from the shade the spreading boughs drew near,  
And the thick trees a sudden wood appear.  
Holm, Withy, Cypress, Plane trees thither pressed:  
The prouder Elm advanced before the rest;  
And showing him his wife, the Vine, advised,  
That Nuptial Rites were not to be despised.  
But he the counsel scorned, and by his hate  
Of Wedlock, and the Sex, incurred his fate.   

High shooting Linden next exacts your care;  
With grateful shades to those who take the air.  
When these you plant, you still should bear in mind  
Philemon and chaste Baucis: These were joined  
In a poor Cottage, by their pious love,  
Whose sacred ties did no less lasting prove,  
Then life itself. They jove once entertained,  
And by their kindness so much on him gained;  
That, being worn by times devouring rage,  
He changed to trees their weak and useless age.  
Though now transformed, they Male and Female are;  
Nor did their change ought of their Sex impair.  
Their Timber chiefly is for Turner's good;  
They soon shoot up, and rise into a wood.   

Respect is likewise to the Maple due,  
Whose leaves, both in their figure, and their hue,  
Are like the Linden; but it rudely grows,  
And horrid wrinkles all its trunk enclose.   

The Pine, which spreads itself in every part,  
And from each side large branches does impart,  
Adds not the least perfection to your Groves;  
Nothing the glory of its leaf removes.  
A noble verdure ever it retains,  
And o'er the humbler plants it proudly reigns.  
To the God's Mother dear; for Cybele  
Turned her beloved Atys to this Tree.  
On one of these vainglorious Marsyas died,  
And paid his skin to Phoebus for his pride.  
A way of boring holes in Box he found,  
And with his artful fingers changed the sound.  
Glad of himself, and thirsty after praise,  
On his shrill Box he to the shepherd's plays.  
With thee, Apollo, next he will contend;  
From thee all charms of music do descend.  
But the bold Piper soon received his doom;  
(who strive with Heaven never overcome.)  
A strong made nut their apples fortifies,  
Against the storms which threaten from the Skies.  
The trees are hardy, as the fruits they bear,  
And where rough winds the rugged mountains tear,  
There flourish best: the lower vales they dread,  
And languish if they have not room to spread.   

Hazle dispersed in any place will live:  
In stony grounds wild Ash, and Cornel thrive;  
In more abrupt recesses these we find,  
Spontaneously exposed to rain and wind.  
Alder, and Withy, cheerful streams frequent,  
And are the Rivers only ornament.  
If ancient Fables are to be believed,  
These were associates heretofore, and lived  
On fishy Rivers, in a little Boat,  
And with their Nets their painful living got.  
The Festival approached; with one consent  
All on the Rites of Pales are intent:  
While these unmindful of the Holiday,  
Their Nets to dry upon the shore display.  
But vengeance soon th' offenders overtook,  
Persisting still to labour in the Brook.  
The angry Goddess fixed them to the shore,  
And for their fault doomed them to work no more.  
Thus to eternal idleness condemned;  
They felt the weight of Heaven, when contemned.  
The moisture of those streams by which they stand,  
Endues them both with power to expand  
Their leaves abroad; leaves, which from guilt look pale;  
In which the never-ceasing Frogs bewail.   

Let lofty hills, and each declining ground,  
(For there they flourish) with tall Sirs abound.  
Layers of these cut from some ancient Grove,  
And buried deep in mould, in time will move  
Young shoots above the earth, which soon disdain  
The Southern blasts, and launch into the Main.   

But in more even fields the Ash delights,  
Where agood soil the generous Plant invites.  
For from an Ash, which Pelion once did bear,  
Divine Achilles took that happy Spear,  
Which Hector killed; and in their Champion's Fate  
Involved the ruin of the Trojan State.  
The Gods were kind to let brave Hector die  
By arms, as noble, as his enemy.  
Ash, like the stubborn Hero in his end,  
Always resolves rather to break then bend.   

Some tears are due to the Heliades;  
Those many which they shed deserve no less.  
Grieved for their brother's death in Woods they range,  
And worn with sorrow into Poplars change.  
By which their grief was rendered more divine,  
While all their tears in precious Amber shine.  
These, with your other Plants, still propagate:  
'Tis true indeed they are appropriate  
To Italy alone, and near the Po,  
Who gave them their first being, best they grow.   

Into your Forest's shady Poplars bring,  
Which from their seed with equal vigour spring.  
Rich Groves of Ebony let India show;  
judaea Balsams which in Gilead flow:  
Persia from trees her silken Fleeces comb;  
Arabia furnish the Sabaean Gum;  
Whose odours sweetness to our Temples lend,  
And at the Altar with our prayers ascend:  
Yet I the Groves of France do more admire,  
Which now on Meads, and now on hills aspire.  
I not the Wood-nymph, not the Pontic Pine  
Esteem, which boasts the splendour of its Line;  
Or those which old Lycaeum did adorn;  
Or Box on the Cytorian mountain born:  
Th' Idaen Vale, or Erimanthian Grove,  
In me no reverence, no horror move;  
Since I no trees can find so large, so tall,  
As those which fill the shady Woods of Gause.   

When from the cloven bud young boughs proceed,  
And the Mast-bearing trees their leaves do spread;  
The pestilential air oft vitiates  
The seasons of the year, and this creates  
Whole swarms of Vermin, which the leaves assail,  
And on the woods in numerous armies fall.  
Creatures in different shapes together joined,  
The horrid Erucs, Palmer-worm designed  
With its pestif'rous odours to annoy  
Your Plants, and their young offspring to destroy.  
Remember then to take these plagues away,  
Lest they break out in the first showers of May.   

From planting new, and lopping aged trees,  
The prudent Ancients bid us never cease:  
Thus no decay is in our Forests known;  
But in their honour we preserve our own.  
Thus in your fields a sudden race will rise,  
Which with your Nurseries will yield supplies;  
That may again some drooping Grove renew:  
For trees like men have their successions too.   

Their solid bodies worms and age impair,  
And the vast Oak give place to his next heir.  
While such designs employ your vacant hours,  
As ordering your woods, and shady bowers;  
Despise not humbler Plants, for they no less,  
Then trees, your Gardens beauty do increase.  
With what content we look on Myrtle Groves!  
On verdant Laurels! There's no man but loves  
To find his Limon, with Acanthus, thrive.  
To see the lovely Phyllirea live;  
With Oleander. Ah! to what delights  
Shorn Cypress, and sweet Gelsemine invites.   

If any Plain be near your Garden found,  
With Cypress, or with Horn-beam hedge it round.  
Which in a thousand Mazes will conspire,  
And to recesses unperceived retire.  
Its branches, like a wall, the paths divide;  
Affording a fresh Scene on every side.  
'Tis true, that it was honoured heretofore;  
But order quickly made valued more,  
By its shorn leaves, and those delights which rose  
From the distinguished forms in which it grows,  
To some cool Arbour, by the ways deceit,  
Allur'd, we haste, or some oblique retreat:  
Where underneath its umbrage we may meet  
With sure defence against the raging heat.   

Though Cypresses contiguous well appear,  
They better show if planted not so near.  
And since to any shape, with ease, they yield,  
What bound's more proper to divide a field?  
Repine not Cyparissus, then in vain;  
For by your change you glory did obtain.   

Silvanus and this Boy with equal fire  
Did heretofore a lovely Hart admire;  
While in the cooler Pastures once it fed,  
An arrow shot at random struck it dead.  
But when the youth the dying beast had found,  
And knew himself the author of the wound,  
With never ceasing sorrow he laments,  
And on his breast his grief and anger vents.  
Silvanus moved with the poor creatures fate,  
Converts his former love to present hate.  
And no more pity in his angry words,  
Then to himself th' afflicted youth affords.  
Weary of life, and quite oppressed with woe,  
Upon the ground his tears in channels flow:  
Which having watered the productive earth,  
The Cypress first from thence derived its birth,  
With Silvan's aid; nor was it only meant  
T' express our sorrow, but for ornament.  
Chiefly when growing low your fields they bound,  
Or when your Gardens Avenues are crowned  
With their long rows; sometimes it; serves to hide  
Some Trench delining on the other side.  
Th' unequal branches always keep that green,  
Of which its leaves are ne'er devested seen.  
Though shook with storms, yet it unmoved remains,  
And by its trial greater glory gains.   

Let Phyllirea on your walls be placed,  
Either with wire, or slender twigs made fast.  
It's brighter leaf with proudest Arras vies,  
And lends a pleasing object to our eyes.  
Then let it freely on your walls ascend,  
And there its native Tapestry extend.   

Nor knows he well to make his Garden shine  
With all delights, who fragrant jassemine  
Neglects to cherish, wherein heretofore  
Industrious Bees laid up their precious store.  
Unless with poles you fix it to the wall,  
It's own deceitful trunk will quickly fall.  
These shrubs, like wanton Ivy, still mount high;  
But wanting strength on other props rely.  
The pliant branches which they always bear,  
Make them with ease to any thing adhear.  
The pleasing odours which their flowers expire,  
Make the young Nymphs and Matrons them desire,  
Those to adorn themselves withal; but these  
To grace the Altars of the Deities.   

With foreign jassemine be also stored,  
Such as Iberian Valleys do afford:  
Those which we borrow from the Portuguese;  
With them which from the Indieses o'er the Seas  
We fetch by ship; in each of which we find  
A difference of colour, and of kind.  
Though gentle Zephyrus propitious proves,  
And welcome Spring the rigid cold removes;  
Haste not too soon this tender Plant t' expose.  
Your Gardens glory, the rash Primrose, shows  
Delay is better; since they oft are lost,  
By venturing too much into the frost.  
The cruel blasts which come from the North wind,  
To overhasty flowers are still unkind.  
Let others ills create this good in you,  
Without deliberation nothing do.  
For this will scarce the open air endure,  
Till by sufficient warmth it is secure.   

No Tree your Gardens, or your Fountains more  
Adorns, than what th' Atlantic Apples bore.  
A deathless beauty crowns its shining leaves,  
And to dark Groves its flower lustre gives.  
Besides the splendour of its golden fruit,  
Of which the boughs are never destitute;  
This generous Shrub in Cases then dispose,  
Made of strong Oak, these little woods compose;  
Whose gilded fruits, and flowers which never fade,  
A grace to th' Country and your Garden add,  
Proud of the treasures Nature has bestowed.  
When snowy flowers the slender branches load,  
And straying Nymphs to gather them prepare,  
Molest them not; but let your Wife be there;  
Your Children, all your Family employ,  
That so your house its orders may enjoy:  
That with sweet Garlands all may shade their brows;  
For in their flow'is these Plants their vigour lose  
Suffer the Nymphs to crop luxuriant trees,  
And with their fragrant wreaths themselves to please.  
Such soft delights they love; then let them still  
With their fresh-gathered fruit their bosoms fill.  
These Apples Atalanta once betrayed:  
They, and not Love, o'ercome the cruel Maid.  
These were the golden Balls which slacked her pace,  
And made her lose the honour of the race.   

But these sweet smells, and pleasant shades will cease,  
Nor longer be your Gardens happiness;  
Unless the hostile winter be repressed,  
And those strong blasts sent from the stormy East.  
Wherefore to hinder these from doing harm,  
You must your trees with walls defensive arm.  
To such warm seats they ever are inclined,  
Where they avoid the fury of the wind.  
These Plants, besides that they this cold would shun,  
Look for th' Assyrian, and the Median Sun.  
In parched Africa they flourish more,  
Then if they grow by Strimons' Icy shore.  
Lest then the frost, or barbarous North should blast  
Your flowers, while all the Sky is overcast  
With duskish clouds, sheds set apart prepare,  
To guard them from the winter's piercing air;  
Till the kind Sun these tempests does disperse,  
And with his influence cheers the Universe.  
Then calmer breezes shall o'er storms prevail,  
And your fresh Groves shall sweet Perfumes exhale.   

These trees are various, and the fruits they bear,  
Are different too. The Lemons always are  
Of oval figure, underneath whose rind  
A juice ungrateful to our taste we find.  
But though at first our Palates it displease,  
Yet better with our stomach it agrees.  
Others less sharp do in Hetruria spring;  
Some, that are mild, from Portugal we bring.  
Another sort from old Aurantia came,  
To which that City does impart its name.  
Hard by Dircaean Aracynthus lies  
This ancient Town; the Orange hence do'srise.  
To which in rind and juice the Lemons yield,  
By each new soil new tastes are oft instilled.   

Mind not the fables by the Grecians told  
Of the Hesperian Sisters, who of old  
On vast Mount Atlas, near the Libyan Sea,  
With greatest care did cultivate this Tree  
Of fierce Alcides, who by force broke in,  
And in the spoils o'th' Nemean skin;  
And from the Dragon, who securely slept,  
Stole, with success, the apples which he kept.  
Returned to th' Aventine, he sets that hill,  
With Orange-trees, which Italy now fill.  
But things of greater moment are behind;  
For Purple Oleander may be joined  
With Oranges, and Myrtles; each of these  
Peculiar graces of their own possess.  
The Myrtle chiefly, which, if fame says true,  
From the God's bounty its beginning drew.   

When Venus placed it in the pleasant shade  
Of the Idaean Vales, about it played  
Whole troops of wanton Cupids, while the night  
Was clear, and Cynthia did display her light.  
This Cytherea above all prefers,  
And by transcendent favour made it hers.  
With Myrtle, hence, the wedded pair delights  
To crown their brows at Hymenaeal Rites.  
Hence juno, who at Marriages presides,  
For Nuptial Torches always these provide.  
Eriphyle, sad Procris, Phaedra too,  
And all those fools, who in Elysium woo,  
Honour this Plant, and under Myrtle Groves,  
If after death they last, recount their loves.   

Proud Victors with its boughs themselves adorn,  
While round their temples wreaths with it are worn.  
Tudertus, when the vanquished Sabines fled,  
Placed one of these on his triumphant head.  
The trunk is humble, and the top as low,  
On which soft leaves and curled branches grow.  
It's grateful smell, and beauty so exact,  
Th' admiring Nymphs from every part attract.  
If too much heat, or sudden cold surprise,  
Which are alike the Myrtles enemies,  
You must avoid them both, and quickly place  
The tender Plant within a wooden Case.  
Sheds may protect them, if the cold be great;  
Or watering from the Summer's scorching heat,  
No impious tool our tenderness allows,  
To fell these groves, nor cattle here must browse   

Oft Oleanders' in great Vasd's live,  
With Myrtles mixed, and Oranges, and give  
Some graces to your Garden, which arise  
From the confusion of their different dies.   

In watery Vales, where pleasant Fountains flow,  
Their fragrant berries lovely Bay-trees show.  
With leaves for ever green, nor can we guests  
By their endowments their extraction less.  
The charming Nymph lived by clear Peneus side,  
And might to Love himself have been allied,  
But that she chose in virtues path to tread,  
And thought a God unworthy of her bed.  
Phoebus, whose darts of late successful proved  
In Python's death, expected to be loved.  
And had she not withstood blind Cupid's power,  
The fiery steeds and heaven had been her dower.  
But she by her refusal more obtained,  
And losing him, immortal honour gained.  
Cherished by thee Apollo. Temples wear  
The Bays, and every clamorous Theatre.  
The Capitol itself; and the proud gate  
Of great Tarpeian Love they celebrate.  
Into the Delphic Rites, the Stars they dive,  
And all the hidden laws of Fate perceive.  
They in the field (where death, and danger's found;  
Where clashing Arms, (and louder Trumpets sound)  
Incite true courage: hence the Bays, each Muse,  
Th' inspiring God, and all good Poets choose.   

Persian Ligustrum grows among the rest,  
Whose azure flowers imitate the Crest  
Of an Exotic Fowl; they first appear  
When the warm Sun, and kinder Spring draws near.  
Then the green leaves upon the boughs depend,  
And sweet Perfumes into the air ascend.   

Pomegranates next their glory vindicate;  
Their boughs in gardens pleasing charms create.  
Nothing their flaming Purple can exceed,  
From the green leaf the golden flowers proceed:  
Whose splendour, and the various curls they yield,  
Add more than usual beauty to the field.  
As soon as e'er the flowers fade away,  
Yet to preserve their lustre from decay,  
To them the fruit succeeds, which in a round  
Conforms itself, whose top is ever crowned  
In seats apart, stained with the Tyrian dye,  
A thousand seeds within in order lie.  
Thus, when industrious Bees do undertake  
To raise a waxen Empire, first they make  
Rooms for their honey in divided rows;  
And last of all, on twigs the Combs dispose.  
So every seed a narrow cell contains,  
Made of hard skin, which all the frame sustains.  
Neither to sharp or sweet the seeds incline  
Too much, but in one mixture both conjoin.   

From whence this Crown, this Tincture is derived,  
We now relate; the Nymph in afric lived:  
Descended from the old Numidians Race,  
Beauty enough adorned her swarthy face;  
As much as that tanned Nation can admit,  
Too much, unless her stars had equalled it.  
Moved by ambition she desired to know  
What e'er the Priests or Oracles could show  
Of things to come, a Kingdom they dispense  
In words including an ambiguous sense.  
She thought a crown no less had signified,  
But in the Priests she did in vain confide.  
When Bacchus th' Author of the fruitful Vine  
From India came, her for his Concubine  
He takes; and to repair her honour lost,  
Presents her with a Crown; by fate thus crossed,  
The too ambitious Virgin ceased to be;  
Transmitting her own beauty to this Tree.   

Sharp Paliurus, Rhamnus, (which by some  
Is White-thorn termed) your Garden will become.  
There levy Caprifoil, Alcaea too,  
Th' Idaean Bush, and Halimus may grow.  
Woody Acanthus; Ruscus there may spring,  
With other Shrubs, these skilful gardeners bring  
Into a thousand forms; but 'tis not fit  
To tell their Species almost infinite.   

From brighter woods the prospect may descend  
Into your Garden, there itself extend  
In spacious walks, divided equally,  
Where the same angles in all parts agree,  
In oblique windings others plant their Groves,  
For every man a different figure loves.  
Thus the same paths, respecting still their bound  
In various tracts diffuse themselves around.  
Whether your walks are straight, or crooked made,  
Let gravel, or green turf be on them laid.  
The Nymphs and Matrons then in woods may meet,  
There walk, and to refresh their wearied feet,  
Into their Chariot's mount, though to the young  
Labour and exercise does more belong.   

If close-shorn Phylliraea you deduce  
Into a hedge, for knots the Carpine use;  
Or into Arbours with a hollow back,  
The pliant twigs of soft Acanthus make.  
With stronger wires the flowing branches bind.  
For if the boughs by nothing are confined,  
The Tonsile Hedge no longer will excel;  
But uncontrolled beyond its limits swell.  
And since the lawless Grass will oft invade  
The neighbouring walks, repress th' aspiring blade  
Suffer no grass, or rugged dirt t' impair  
Your smother paths; but to the gardeners care  
These things we leave; they are his business,  
With setting flowers, and planting fruitful trees.  
And with the master let the servants join,  
With him their willing hearts and hands combine:  
Some should with rulers tame the yielding ground,  
Making it plain, where ruder clods abound.  
Some may fit moisture to your Meadows give,  
And to the Plants and Garden may derive  
Refreshing streams; let others sweep away  
The fallen leaves; mend hedges that decay;  
Cut off superfluous boughs; or with a Spade  
Find where the Moles their winding nests have made;  
Then close them up: Another flowers may sow  
In beds prepared; on all some task hestow:  
That if the Master happens to come down,  
To fly the smoke and clamour of the Town;  
He in his Villa none may idle find,  
But secret joys may please his wearied mind.   

And blest is he, who tired with his affairs,  
Far from all noise, all vain applause, prepares  
To go, and underneath some silent shade,  
Which neither cares nor anxious thoughts invade,  
Does, for a while, himself alone possess;  
Changing the Town for Rural happiness.  
He, when the Sun's hot steeds to th' Ocean hast,  
Ere sable night the world has overcast,  
May from the hills the fields below descry,  
At once diverting both his mind and eye.  
Or if he please, into the woods may stray,  
Listen to th' Birds, which sing at break of day:  
Or, when the Cattle come from pasture, hear  
The bellowing Ox, the hollow Valleys tear  
With his hoarse voice: Sometimes his flowers invite:  
The Fountains too are worthy of his sight.  
To every part he may his care extend,  
And these delights all others so transcend,  
That we the City now no more respect,  
Or the vain honours of the Court affect.  
But to cool Streams, to aged Groves retire,  
And th' unmixed pleasures of the fields desire.  
Making our beds upon the grassy bank,  
For which no art, but nature we must thank.  
No Marble Pillars, no proud Pavements there,  
No Galleries, or fretted Roofs appear,  
The modest rooms to India nothing owe;  
Nor Gold, nor Ivory, nor Arras know:  
Thus lived our Ancestors, when Saturn reigned,  
While the first Oracles in Okes remained,  
A harmless course of life they did pursue;  
And nought beyond their hills their Rivers knew.  
Rome had not yet the Universe engrossed,  
Her Seven Hills few Triumphs than could boast.  
Small herds than grazed in the Laurenitne Mead;  
Nor many more th' Arician Valleys feed.   

Of Rural Ornaments, of Woods much more  
I could relate, than what I have before:  
But what's unfinished my next care requires,  
And my tired Bark the neighbouring Port desires.    

RAPINUS OF GARDENS.  
Book III. WATER.  

OF pleasant Floods, and Streams, my Muse now sings,  
Of Crystal Lakes, Grotts, and transparent Springs.  
By these a Garden is more charming made,  
They chiefly beautify the Rural Shade.  
To me ye River-gods, your influence give,  
If Deities in Springs, in Rivers live.   

Into the secret caverns of the earth,  
Where these perennial waters have their birth,  
I now descend; as well to know the source,  
As to explore which way they take their course.  
To learn where all this liquid Treasure lies,  
And whence the Channels still have fresh supplies.   

Wherefore let those who would instructed be  
In Aqueducts, their Precepts take from me.  
Into th' unskilful Gardener I'll infufe  
What may be ornamental, what of use.  
You then who would your Villas grace augment  
And on its honour always are intent:  
You who employ your time to cultivate  
Your Gardens, and to make their glory great:  
Among your groves and flowers let water flow;  
Water, the soul of groves and slow'rs too.  
He that intends to do as I direct,  
Must in the Vales the scattered floods collect.  
He into th'bowels of the earth must dive,  
To find out Springs, which may the fields revive,  
All parched and dry; for else, within a while.  
No grass will live upon the thirsty Soyl.  
Nor is it hard to do what you desire,  
If on the neighbouring Hills some Rock aspire;  
For in such places waters always flow,  
From whence you may refresh the Meads belows  
Thus the swift Loir, the Rhine, and the Garonne,  
Parisian Sein, the Sealdis, and the Rhone;  
The mighty Danube too, and almost all  
The streams in nature from the mountains fall.  
Whether some space be in the hollow Caves,  
Made for a receptacle of the Waves;  
Or that the vital air no sooner feels  
Th' included cold, but it as soon distils  
Into small Brooks; thus the warm Caverns sweat  
Such humid drops, as when the season's wet,  
And winter has obscured the air again,  
From marble pillars are observed to drain.  
With dewy moisture lofty Cliffs abound,  
All places weep perhaps into the ground,  
And through the hills, helped by the Rain and Snows,  
The water runs, still sinking at it goes.  
Till forced for want of room, it than disdains  
More narrow bounds, insulting o'er the Plains.   

Those before others should our credit gain,  
Who would deduce all Fountains from the Main:  
Whose boundless waves the Universe embrace,  
And penetrate into each vacant space,  
Each cranny of the earth; as in our veins  
That active blood which humane life sustains,  
Is always moved, so th' Ocean circulates,  
And into every part itself dilates.  
Hence, though all rivers to the Ocean haste,  
And in its depth are swallowed up at last:  
Yet these additions make it not run o'er,  
Or violate the limits of the shore.  
Nor is the ground so close together knit,  
But that its Pores and Caverns will admit  
The subtle waves, which sinking by degrees,  
Descend into its deep Concavities.  
When uncontrolled, they gently take their course;  
But if disturbed, they make their way by force.  
Where frequent clefts the gaping earth divide,  
The waters there in greater plenty slide.  
Thus too fresh streams do from the sea proceed,  
Which of their native Salt are wholly freed.  
They through the sand, and crooked Maeanders stray,  
And through uneven places force their way,  
Strained by their soils, through which they are conveyed,  
They lose that brackishness which once theyhad   

No taste, no other colour water knows,  
But what alone its mother Earth bestows.  
For she alone distinguishes its end;  
By causing it to heal, or to offend.  
Borbon and Pugia such Springs produce,  
Which borrow from the ground a wholesome juice.  
By drinking them, diseases reign no more,  
To dying men they welcome health restore:  
The Gods in nothing more their power declare,  
In nothing more we may discern their care.   

What need of drugs? what use of Medicine?  
Pains cannot, dare not conquer aids divine.  
Art sure must starve; Physicians must grow poor,  
If nature the decays of nature cure.   

Let your first labour be to find a Spring,  
Which from the neighbouring hillock you may bring.  
Such places seldom fail of these supplies,  
Therefore with digging you must exercise  
The earth, be diligent on every side:  
Then if success be to your hopes denied;  
If heavy sand composed the glebe, in vain  
You wish for what you never can obtain.  
When in their field some have for Fountains sought,  
Which thence they to their Gardens would have brought,  
I saw their thirsty wishes unrepaid;  
While the deaf Gods neglected those who prayed.   

Where the Medonian hills do lose their height,  
There lately dwelled the greatest Favourite  
Fortune e'er had, the greatest France e'er saw,  
A hundred Plows his numerous Oxen draw.  
The Treasures of the Kingdom he commands,  
The nerves of peace and war were in his hands,  
To be disposed of, as the King thought fit,  
And as the rules of Government permit.  
He on th' advantage of the Hill had placed  
A noble House, which underneath was graced  
By a large Plain, o'er which it might be seen  
From Paris, and the Country too between.  
No Gardens there, no Woods were wanting found,  
The spacious Prospect stretched itself around.  
But by the grassy banks no water strayed,  
Nor with hoarse murmurs wanton rivers played.  
The owner of the Seat, a thousand ways,  
To find out Springs beneath the earth essays.  
He left no means, no charges unapplyed:  
All the efforts of art and labour tried.  
Still his desire of Fountains did incerease,  
And no repulses made his wishes cease,  
With empty hopes he feed his longing mind,  
And sought for that which he could never find.  
For though he left no place unsearched, unmoved,  
Yet his attempts still unsuccessful proved.  
So hard it is, unless the Soil consent,  
To find a Spring; which done, your thanks present  
To the kind Gods, the Rural Power adore;  
Do this, as I have done for you before.   

Water, 'tis true, through Pipes may be convaid  
From hollow Pits; so Fountains oft are made,  
By Art, when Nature aids not our designs,  
The pensile Machine to a Tunnel joins;  
Which by the motion of a Siphon strait,  
The element attracts, though by its weight  
It be depressed; and thus, O Sein, thy waves  
Beneath Pontneuf, the tall Samarian Laves;  
And pours them out above: But let all those,  
Who want these helps, to him address their vows,  
Whose arm, whose voice alone can water draw,  
And make obdurate rocks to rivers thaw.   

Now that success may equalise your pains,  
Because the Earth the Searcher entertains  
With seeming hopes, these cautions take from me,  
Which may prevent too rash credulity.  
Where small declining hillocks you perceive,  
Or a● soil where Flags and Rushes live,  
Where the fat ground a slimy moisture yields,  
If weeds and prickly sedge o'erspread the fields;  
There hidden Springs with confidence expect:  
For sedgy places still to Springs direct.  
The same Conyza which with Seaweed grows,  
And Moss condensed upon the surface shows,  
Batrachium, and Sium too express  
Unerring marks of neighbouring streams. No less  
By reedy Calamint we may divine.  
But you may make the scattered floods combine  
And though in different hills they were begun,  
They must united to your Garden run.  
If in the hanging brow of some near hill,  
A copious vein be found; then if you will,  
You may of lead, or earthen tiles make use,  
And so the Springs into the Vales deduce.  
For where the little vein you would compel,  
By adventitious waters still to swell;  
There hollow Vaults of Slate do best convey  
The Springs themselves, and Rains which fall that way.  
Th' adjacent Brooks which ran before to waste,  
Will by degrees to these Enclosures haste.  
Collected there they soon the Channels fill,  
Which will at length to larger currents swell.  
Next that the waves may unmolested slide,  
And not through rough and darksome winding, glide;  
That you may separate the gross sediment,  
At distances with drains your course indent.  
For where through even ways the stream runs strong,  
That heavy slime, which it had forced along,  
Proceeds, till the next trench its course controls,  
Then intercepted sinks into the holes.  
Though under ground the vaulted channel goes,  
Yet grates upon the top of Wells dispose;  
Through which the water may its passage find,  
Leaving the dirt and slimy mud behind.  
No sordid mire can make it now less pure,  
Since by these means'tis rendered more secure.   

What if illustrious Medicea calls  
Arcolian Springs to the Parisian walls?  
Though her endeavours Aqueducts have made,  
And murmuring streams on hollow bridges laid?  
Yet such expenses are too great sore me,  
Nor with my narrow fortune can agree.  
With endless walls the stately Pile appears,  
Which a proud row of haughty arches bears.  
Within the Vault suspended waters flow,  
O'er cloven hills, and vales which lie below.  
For with stonewalls the distances are joined,  
To their extent the current is confined.  
Hence come those Springs, which all the City bless.  
The Royal bounty caused this happiness.  
For public work on public souls depend;  
To them no private fortune can pretend.   

Such benefits from them alone are due,  
Who with their treasures have profuseness too.  
Though your estate be great, let me advise,  
That to no public works you sacrifice,  
That which your Fathers left: for he's to blame,  
Who with his ruin buys an empty name.  
In all such enterprises ruin lurks;  
Who have not sunk themselves in Water-works?  
Be modest therefore, fly from all extremes;  
And in canales of tile convey your streams.  
Or troughs of Alder prostrate on the ground,  
For to this purpose they are useful found.   

But blessed is he, who can without the aid  
Of lead, or tile, or troughs of Alder made,  
All through his Garden neighbouring Brooks dispose;  
Such as near Paris noble Bearny shows:  
Where copious Bivara the happy place  
With swelling waves does pleasingly embrace.  
And such is Liancourt; so we admire  
At Borguiel in Anjou the rapid Loire.  
Which through the wide Salmurian Vales and Meads,  
Itself with loud resounding murmurs spreads;  
Abounding so with water Polycrene,  
(If nature would have suffered it) had been,  
Whose warbling noise the Poets now invites,  
And the inspiring Muses more delights.  
Nor be offended lovely Fountain, though  
Through Sancaronian Forests thou dost go;  
Though th' unkind earth affords no smother way,  
And makes thee through uneven chamberstray:  
Yet art thou welcome to Lamon: If so  
With thy moist springs and streams which ever flow,  
Thou wouldst refresh his gardens, and agree  
To wash sweet Bavillaeum, thou wouldst be  
More fortunate, thy Deity would seem  
The greatest then in Themis' esteem.   

For where we find a liberal vein at hand,  
And can with ease the neighbouring waves command,  
'Tis better far than Pipes of brittle lead,  
Which often crack, as oft the liquor shed.  
Besides confinement is an injury;  
A force on water which was ever free.   

But if the place you live in be so dry,  
That neither Springs nor Rivers they are nigh;  
Then at some distance from your garden make  
Within the gaping earth a spacious Lake:  
That like a Magazine may comprehend  
Th' assembled floods, which from the hills descend,  
And all the bottom pave with chalky loom,  
Since that can best the falling waves o'ercome.   

How to distribute Springs I now impart;  
The means of spreading them, and with what art  
Their motion must be gulded; how restrained;  
Your Gardener all these things must understand.  
The docile streams will any shape put on;  
A thousand different courses they will run.  
All these instructions I to none refuse,  
Who listen to the dictates of my Muse.   

If you would have your water useful be,  
Where neighbouring Vales beneath your Garden lie,  
In Pipes of lead let it be closely penned;  
Without restraint it never will ascend.  
Others do rather brazen Conduits use,  
That the stiff metal might more strength infuse;  
To make th'imprisoned Element retire,  
And then with greater force again aspire.  
But still take heed that the included air  
Within the Pipes move no intestine war:  
That its fierce motion force them not to leak,  
And to get loose, the empty prison break.  
Therefore through spiracles the air restore,  
To those wide mansions it possessed before.  
Thus in Falernian Cellars, when the Wine,  
Which is the product of that generous Vine,  
Is poured into the Cask, and hooped about,  
They leave a vent to let the air go out:  
Were this undone, the wine would quickly fly  
Through the weak ribs, and all restraint defy.   

When in your garden's entrance you provide,  
The waters, there united, to divide:  
First, in the middle a large Fountain make;  
Which from a narrow pipe its rise may take,  
And to the air those waves, by which 'tis fed,  
Remit again: About it raise a bed  
Of moss, or grass, or if you think this base,  
With well-wrought Marble circle in the place.  
Statues of various shapes may be disposed  
About the Tube; sometimes it is enclosed  
By dubious Scylla; or with Sea-calves graced;  
Or by a brazen Triton 'tis embraced.  
A Triton thus at Luxembourg presides,  
And from the Dolphin, which he proudly ricles.  
Spouts out the streams: This place, though beautisied  
With Marble round, though from Arcueill supplied;  
Yet to Saint Cloud must yield in this outshined,  
That there the Hostel d'Orleans we find.  
The little Town, the Groves before scarce known,  
Enabled thus, will now give place to none.  
So great an owner any seat improves;  
One whom the King, one whom the people loves.   

This Garden, as a Pattern, may be shown  
To those who would add beauty to their own.  
All other Fountains this so far transcends,  
That none in France besides with it contends.  
None so much plenty yields; none flows so high,  
A Gulf, i'th' middle of the Pond do'slye,  
In which a swollen tunnel opens wide;  
Through hissing chinks the waters freely slide;  
And in their passage like a whirlwind move,  
With rapid force into the air above;  
As if a watery dart were upward thrown.  
But when these haughty waves do once fall down,  
Resounding loud, they on each other beat,  
And with a dewy shower the Basin wet.   

How Fountains first had being now I tell;  
If any truth in ancient stories dwell.   

Hard by the Phasian Bank, with prosperous Gales,  
Armed with his Club, while great Alcides' sails;  
A band of Argian youth was with him sent,  
And among them his dearest Hylas went.  
Near old Ascanius in Bythinia stood  
A lofty Grove of Beech: as by this Wood  
The swift Bank sails, the weary Minyae land,  
And stretch their limbs on the inviting Sand.  
The nimble Favourite now goes in quest  
Of hidden Springs, and wanders from the rest;  
With travel tired he comes to one at last,  
Strait from his shoulders on the grass he cast  
The weighty Pitcher which they hither bore;  
And for refreshment sits upon the shore.  
Ascanius had invited to a feast  
The neighbouring Nymphs, fair Isis thither pressed,  
With graceful Ephyra, th' Inachian Dame,  
And Lycaonian Melanina came.  
The Rural, and the River-Nymphs were here,  
And none were absent, whose abodes were near.  
The Charms of Hylus Isis first surprise;  
His features she admires; his sparkling eyes,  
On the green turf the weary youth reposed:  
Now all her artifices she disclosed;  
She uses all th' Artillery of Love,  
All that could pity or affection move;  
And though she saw but little cause, so vain  
All Lovers are, she hoped he loved again.  
While he by stooping to draw water strives,  
Either the slippery bank his foot deceives;  
Or by the vessels weight too much oppressed,  
He tumbles in; to succour the distressed  
Kind Isis soon approached; the offered aid  
Not with acceptance, but with scorn he paid.  
Th' assisting waves he scatters in the wind,  
And wrestles with that stream which would be kind.  
Now all the other Nymphs their prayers unite,  
And to the room with Pumice arched invite  
The sullen boy; there promise he shall be,  
As he deserved, a liquid Deity.  
Resusing still, his arms now wearied lose  
Their strength, and he a sacred Fountain grows.  
To which the Nymph indulging her revenge,  
(For Love repulsed to cruelty will change)  
Designs still proud, a lofty Genius gave,  
That it by nature might a difference have  
From other water; always might aspire,  
Always, in vain, to be more high desire.  
A copious fall its ruin hastens on;  
And by its own ambition 'tis undone.  
Mean while Alcides all along the Coast,  
Vainly inquires for him whom he had lost:   

Th' Ascanian Shores, the hills his name resound,  
The Rocks and Woods of Hylas echo round.  
Hylas, whose change alone was the first cause,  
That water rises against nature's laws.  
Thus he, who the embrace of Isis' flies,  
Was punished by that Nymph he did despise.   

Hence spouting streams in verdant Groves we see,  
And noble Gardens to a luxury,  
By Art diversified: for powerful Art  
To the ambitious water can impart  
Such diff rend shapes, as great Ruel can boast,  
Where glorious Richlieu with excessive cost,  
And pains, the waves into subjection brings;  
And still survives in Monumental Springs.  
All this he did, while he, not Lewis reigned,  
And Atlas-like the tottering State sustained.  
Here variously disposed the Fountains run,  
First headlong fall, then rise where they begun.  
Receive all forms, and move on every side;  
With horrid noise, Chimaera gaping wide,  
Out of her open mouth the water throws.  
For from her mouth a rapid torrent flows,  
From her wide throat, as waves in circles spout,  
A Serpent turning sprinkles all the rout.  
A brazen Hunter watchfully attends;  
And threatening death the crooked tunnel bends.  
Instead of shot, thence pearly drops proceed;  
Drops not so fatal as if made of Lead.  
This soon the laughter of the vulgar moves,  
Whose acclamation the deceit approves.   

But why should I repeat how many ways  
In the deep Caves Art with the water plays?  
The place grows moist with artificial Rain,  
And hissing Springs, which here burst out amain.  
Rebounding high, streams every where sweat through,  
And with great drops the hanging stones bedew.  
They who the Grotts, and Fountains oversee,  
May as they please the streams diversify.  
Though the kind Naiads comply with those,  
Who when they Grotts of Pibble do compose,  
And Springs bring in, still beautify the Cells,  
With Eastern stones, or Erythraean shells.  
Others of hollow Pumice may be made,  
And well-placed shells may on the top be laid.  
But all these arts, which modern ages own,  
Were to our happy ancestors unknown.  
These sights must be exposed to th' people's view,  
Whose greedy eyes such novelties pursue.   

To serious things you must yourself apply,  
And water love in greater quantity:  
Learn how to manage it when it falls down,  
Either that like a River it may crown  
The deeper brims of some capacious Lake;  
Or the resemblance of a Pond may make.  
The tube, if wide enough, may more contain,  
And at a distance render it again.  
Plenty in Fountains always graceful shows,  
And greatest beauty from abundance flows.   

Nor is the spout of water to be poised  
One way, or in one form to be comprised,  
It must be varied, if you pleasure seek.  
Some from divided streams make showers break.  
The Solar Rays and Light some represent;  
Or from a twanging Bow swift arrows sent;  
Others in waves from Precipices cast,  
More pleasure take; then raped about as fast,  
In little they Charybdie imitats,  
Which so endangers the Sicilian Strait.  
As in the bubbling brass, o'er rustling fires,  
Hot liquor boils, the water so aspires.   

Where it abounds, the current, there divide  
Into small brooks, which o'er the fields may glide.  
And into ponds these brooks must fall at last;  
Lest the best Element should run to waste.  
Now learn how art restrains the wand'ring flood,  
And at due distance makes it spread abroad.  
Though to its natural course the streams inclined,  
And being free is hard to be confined;  
Yet you may soon compel it to that course  
Which you prescribe, and make it run by force  
Through dubious errors; for it will delight  
To take false channels, having lost the right.  
By frequent windings water thus is stayed,  
Till over all the field it is convaid.   

So Amymona's fabled to have erred,  
As soon as Neptune's passion she had heard.  
Th' unhappy Virgin, fearing her disgrace,  
Follows, and flies herself with equal pace,  
Perhaps she had not yet the power to see.  
That she was changed by th' amorous Deity  
Changed to a stream; which in her footsteps strays,  
And through Dircaean fields its pace delays.   

Rivers diffused a thousand ways may pass,  
With hastening waves through the divided grass.  
Like sudden torrents, which the rain gives head,  
Through precipices some may swiftly spread;  
And in the pebbles a soft noise excite.  
Some on the surface with a timorous flight,  
May steal; if any thing its speed retard,  
Then its shrill murmurs through the fields are heard.  
Enraged it, leaps up high, and with weak strokes  
The pebbles, which it overflows, provokes.  
Threatening the bank it beats against the shore,  
And roots of trees which froth all sprinkles o'er.  
That slender brook, from whence hoarse noises came,  
Which as it had no substance, had no name;  
When other rivulets from the Vales come in,  
Th'ignoble current than will soon begin  
To gather strength; for bridges may be fit,  
And by degrees great Vessels will admit.  
Sometimes by grassy banks the River goes;  
Sometimes with joy it skips upon green moss;  
Sometimes it murmurs in exalted Groves,  
And with its threats the narrow path reproves.  
Whken 'tis dispersed, then let the Meads be drowned,  
Let slimy mud enrich the barren ground.  
If it runs deep, with dams its force restrain;  
And from the Meadows noxious water drain.   

Where from their fountains rivers do break loose,  
And the moist Spring the Valleys overflows;  
When on the Meads black showers do descend,  
With mounds of earth the Groves from floods defend.   

As different figures best with streams agree,  
So on the sides let there some difference be.  
Still with variety the borders grace,  
There either grass, or fragrant flowers place;  
Or with a wharf of stone the bank secure;  
But troubled Fens let their own feeds obscure:  
Or Weeds, where croaking Frogs and Moorhens lie;  
Nothing but grass your banks must beautify.  
Where silver Springs afford transparent waves,  
And glistering sand the even bottom paves.  
On which green Elms their leaves in Autumn sheed.  
Thus Rivers both our care and culture need.  
While in their channels they run headlong down,  
We must take heed, that, as they hast, no stone  
Fallen from the hanging brink, may keep them back,  
And through the Vales their course uneasy make.   

Ye Springs and Fountains in the Woods resound,  
And with your noise the silent Groves confound.  
Frequent their windings, all their avenues,  
And into the dry roots new life infuse.   

While pleasant streams invite your thoughts and eyes,  
And with resistless charms your sense surprise;  
Of humane life you then may meditate,  
Obnoxious to the violence of fate,  
Life unperceived, like Rivers, steals away.  
And though we court it, yet it will not stay.  
Then may you think of its incertainty.  
Constant in nothing but inconstancy.  
See what rude waves disturb the things below,  
And through what stormy voyages we go.  
So Hypanis, you'll say, and Peneus so,  
Simois, and Volsoian Amasenus flow;  
Naupactian Achelous, Inachus,  
With slow Melanthus, swift Parthenius,  
Thus ran along, and so Dyraspes went,  
Whose current Borysthenian streams augment.   

Besides the Fountains, which to art we owe,  
That falls of water also can bestow  
Such, as on rugged jura we descry,  
On Rocks; and on the Alps which touch the Sky.  
Where from steep precipices it descends,  
And where America itself extends  
To the rude North; exposed to Eurus blast:  
On Canadas bold shore the Ocean past.  
There among Groves of Fit-trees ever green,  
Streams falling headlong from the Cliffs are seen:  
The cataracts resound along the shore;  
Struck with the noise, the Woods and Valleys roar.  
These wonders which by nature here are shown,  
Ruellian Naiads have by Art outdone.  
Into the air a Rock with lofty head  
Aspires, the hasty waters thence proceed.  
Dashed against rugged places they descend,  
And broken thus themselves in foam they spend.  
They sound, as when some torrent uncontrolled,  
With mighty force is from a Mountain rolled.  
The earth with horrid noise affrighted groans,  
Flints which lie underneath, and moistened stones,  
Are beat with waves; th' untrodden paths resound,  
And groves and woods do loudly echo round.   

But if on even ground your Garden stand,  
If no unequal hill, or cliff command,  
Whence you the falling waters may revoke,  
From the declining ridge of some kind rock.  
Then in long ranges your Cascades digest:  
The Nymph of Liancourt so hers has dressed.  
For by the Gardens side, the Rivers pass  
From no steep cliff, but down a bank of grass.   

Nor should it less deserve of our esteem,  
When from an even bed diffused the stream  
Runs down a polished rock, and as it flows,  
Like Linen in the air expanded shows.  
The Textile flood a slender Current holds,  
And in a wavy veil the place infolds.   

But these Cascades and sports you need not there,  
Where spacious Pools with wider brims appear.  
And scarce within their banks and chambers held,  
Run into brooks, and visit all the field.  
And to this end, if my advice you take,  
In the low places of your Garden make,  
Besides the other Springs, large trenches too;  
To which from every part the streams may flow.  
For little Brooks and Springs are not so good,  
Nor please so much as a more noble flood.  
But if square Pools, and deeper Ponds you love,  
Dig a broad channel; all the earth remove;  
To make it levelly to that watery bed,  
Or the deep Marsh by which it must be fed.  
Then with a wharf of stone secure the place,  
With cement bound; let this the shore embrace.  
For the foundation you with stone must lay;  
Though that itself has oft been forced away.  
Always by force the Element restrain,  
And let the shores the raging floods contain.   

The empty Lakes from Springs will be supplied,  
Brought from the field along the Gardens side.  
An hundred Brooks from flowing never cease,  
And with their plenty make the Pools increase.  
Some I have seen, who all their ponds have filled,  
With those supplies which the deep torrents yield.  
And in a Laver, by its bank enclosed,  
The waves collected in the vales disposed:  
Collected through the fields from fallen rains.  
And Bavillaeum such a Pond maintains.  
The Nymph o'th' place has this of late prepared  
The owner's fortune has the house repaired.  
From him the seat its greatest glory draws,  
And he obtained his honour by the laws.  
The slender stream through ancient ruins went,  
Unless the Winter showers did augment  
Its force, it washed a Villa quite decayed,  
And with it's sullied waves through rubbish strayed.  
The Sancaronian Cattle on the brink,  
And Bavillaean Cows were wont to drink.  
Once with a leap I could have passed it o'er,  
But its great master quickly did restore  
The beauty it had lost; and as he rose,  
So still with him the current bigger grows.  
That which with rushes covered ran of late,  
Though small, was destined to a better Fate.  
In a great Laver now the water swells,  
And stored with Fish a spacious channel fills.  
The graver Senators here often meet;  
Here the Civilians, and the Lawyers sit.  
Here wearied with the Town, and their affairs,  
They please themselves, and put off all their cares.  
A Spout whose fall makes all the garden sound,  
Discharges in the middle of the Pond.   

Nor will the plenteous waters please you less,  
When in the ground a circle they possess.  
Which Figure with a Garden best agrees:  
If on the grassy bank a Grove of Trees,  
With shining Scenes, and branches hanging down,  
The seats of stone, and verdant shores does crown.  
But whether they stand still, or swiftly glide,  
With their broad leaves let Woods the Rivers hide.  
Bestowing on each place their cooling shade;  
For Springs by that alone are pleasant made.  
Still banish frogs, who their old strifes recite,  
And in their murmurs and complaints delight.  
Drive them away; for the malicious rout  
Pollutes the Springs, and stirs the mud about.  
Let silver Swans upon your Rivers swim:  
Let painted Barges beautify the stream;  
And yielding waves with numerous oars divide.  
But let no Matrons in the shores confide;  
For we, too well, have known their perfidy.  
A●ter her husband's fate Alcyone,  
And Anna sister to Elisa too,  
The Water-gods displeased, nor did they go  
Unpunished long; swift vengeance did descend,  
On them, and all who dare the Gods offend.  
Therefore with care these Deities adore,  
Lest while your servants work along the shore,  
Some swelling tide should snatch them from your sight:  
But on our foes let these misfortune's light.   

Now to proceed to what I have begun,  
That through your fields continued streams may run.  
Let the collected floods from every side  
O th' Garden, of themselves extended wide,  
Upon the banks in equal channels beat.  
No water makes a Garden more complete,  
Then if arising from a copious Source,  
O'er all the Meads it freely takes its course.  
If seen all round with sounding waves it flows,  
And as it runs a noble River grows.   

To add more rules to those already known,  
Were vain; for if in Verse I should set down  
All that this art contains, I then should swerve  
From those strict laws which Poets should observe.  
If you'll know more, then see those vales of late  
In their successful owner fortunate.  
See there the Springs in order placed; some bound  
In pipes of lead, and buried under ground.  
There you will find the Grotts with Springs adorned;  
And how by art the fountains may be turned.  
Nor suffer Liancourt t' escape your sight,  
Whose humid streams, and grassy banks invite.  
See how the Nymph the Schomberg-water guides  
A thousand ways, and o'er the place presides.  
And thou, Bellaquean Naias must be seen  
Ennobled by a Prince. Thou, like a Queen,  
Rul'st over all the waves of France; none dare  
Affect such honours, or with thee compare:  
The Rivers, Fountains, and the Lakes of Gaul,  
Broad Sein, which washes the Parisian wall:  
Loire, and Elaver, swallowed by the Loire,  
Our own, and foreign waters thee admire.  
To thee great Rome her Tiber must submit,  
And Greece herself must all her streams forget.  
As other Nations must subscribe to France,  
So o'er the rest thy happy waves advance.  
Victorious Lewis having settled peace,  
And by his conduct made all quarrels cease,  
This Garden by additions fairer made,  
And from a Rock contrived a new Cascade.  
But what should I these haughty Springs repeat?  
Or the immense Canale, with waves replete?  
How, like a River, with majestic pride,  
Betwixt steep banks the tardy waters glide.  
These shores have witnessed deep intrigues of State,  
Have seen when Nations have received their fate,  
When suppliant Princes have our aid implored,  
And on their knees our rising Sun adored.  
When from all parts Ambassadors have come,  
To sue for peace, or to expect their doom.   

But here it is impossible to show  
The riches which adorn thee Fountainbleau,  
Or all the honours which thy Gardens boast:  
Thy Palaces erected by the cost,  
And happy luxury of former Kings,  
My humble Muse of Gardens only sings.  
How should I think to make thy wonders known!  
When the shrill Trumpets every where are blown  
By Fame's loud breath, how should my feeble. voice,  
Be understood amidst so great a noise?  
See how much joy appears in all the Court!  
And what a sacred Pledge fit to support  
An Empire's weight! Lucina brings to light.  
You might perceive the world in joy unite;  
As if the Dauphin's Birthday were designed  
To settle peace, and blessings on mankind.   

While the glad Nymph redoubles her applause,  
And celebrates great Lewis, who gives Laws  
To quiet France, and with unshaken reins.  
His glory with a lasting Peace maintains:  
I sing the other Treasures of the Field,  
And all those gifts which fruitful Orchards yield.    

RAPINUS OF GARDENS.  
Book IV. ORCHARDS.  

NOr thee, Pomona, will my Muse forget;  
Thou flourishest amidst the Summer's heat;  
All things are full of thee: Autumnus shows  
Thy honour too, adorned by verdant boughs:  
To thee Lamon, this part of my design  
Relates; let prosperous Breezes than combine.  
And suffer thou my voyage to succeed,  
That through the main my Bark may cut with speed.  
Though you maintain severe Astraeas' right,  
Encourage virtue, and from vice affright:  
Yet have we seen you play the Gardener too,  
And giving precepts how your trees should grow.   

Their culture, and their species too by thee  
At large described, the Husbandman may see.   

And for this benefit so let thy ground  
Be ever kind, be ever grateful found!  
Let thy luxuriant Orchards so be filled  
That the weak boughs beneath their load may yield!  
That Bavillaeau barns with store may break,  
And Plenty never may thy house forsake!   

Though to all plants each soil is not disposed,  
And on some places nature has imposed  
Peculiar laws, which she unchanged preserves,  
Such servile laws, France scarce at all observes.  
she's fertile to excess: all fruits she bears,  
And willingly repays the Ploughman's cares.  
What if Burgundian Hills with vines abound?  
Or if with Orchards Normandy be crowned?  
Though Beausse her corn? Bigorre her metals shows?  
Though Bearn be woody? Troy's with wine overflows?  
If Bordeaux cattle breeds? and Auvergne yields  
The best and noblest horses. Yet the sields  
All over France improvement will admit:  
And are for trees, or else for tillage fit,  
Chiefly near thee, moist Tours, where may be seen  
A lasting spring, and meadows ever-green.  
Those fields which the Durance, and flower Soane  
Refresh, and the sweet vales which the Garonne  
With slimy waters gently passes by,  
With those blessed meads which near great Paris lie,   

Choose a rich soil when you intent to plant  
Not that which heavy sand has rendered faint.  
Avoid low vales, which lie between close hills,  
Which some thick Pool with noisome vapours fills.  
Where pithy Mists, and hurtful steams ascend,  
Lest an ill taste they to your fruit may lend.  
Still fly that place, where Auster always blows,  
And sor your trees that situation choose,  
Where in the open air on a descent,  
To bless their growth more gentle winds consent.   

And though the field tothth' Sun exposed be,  
Or the hot winds, yet this may well agree  
With flowers, but than you must some distance make  
Between the flowers, and trees, and to keep back  
People and Cattle, which would else offend,  
With Iron-grates the avenues defend.   

How to choose Land I here omit to tell,  
In different grounds what different habits dwell:  
As also how to plant, or when to sow,  
These arts the Husbandmen already know.   

But if the ground cannot the Trees maintain,  
In open furrows till it o'er again.  
Dig all the barren field with care and toil,  
And for exhausted earth bring better Soil.  
That which comes nearest sand is best of all,  
If it be moist and coloured well withal.  
Too many weeds from too much moisture rise:  
Destructive weeds, a Gardens enemies.   

Now that the plant may with the mould comply;  
What fruits it most approves you first must try.  
Whether the Vine thrives best upon the place,  
Or other trees, for there can be no grace  
In any ground that's forced against its will  
To bring forth fruit: therefore remember still  
Never with nature any force to use,  
For 'tis injurious if she should refuse.  
When once the field is levelled, and prepared,  
Let it in equal distances be thared.  
Appoint the seats in which your trees shall stand,  
Then choose a quince from a selected band:  
And having cut the woody part away,  
Into warm mould you then the Plant may lay.  
Nor think it is unworthy of your hand  
To make the furrows hollow, or t'expand  
The Earth about the roots, for still we find,  
That he who does the laws of planting mind,  
He who from parent-stocks, young branches cuts,  
And then in trenches the soft layers puts,  
Seldom reputes these necessary pains,  
But rather profit by his care obtains.   

While Fortune waited on the Persian state;  
Cyrus, who from Astyages the great  
Himself derived, himself his Gardens tilled.  
How oft astonished Tmolus has beheld  
Th' industrious Prince in planting Trees and Flowers.  
And watering them employ his vacant hours!  
How oft Orontes stopped his hasty flood,  
And gazing on the Royal Gardner stood.  
The Sabine vallies heretofore have known  
When noblest Romans have forsaken the town;  
When they their Pomp and Glory laid aside,  
And to the Rake and Blow themselves applied,   

And this employment warlike Fabius chose,  
When he returned from vanquishing his foes.  
He, who in open Senate made decrees,  
Manures his ground, and now gives laws to Trees.  
No longer o'er his legions he commands,  
But sows the earth with his victorious hands,  
The Glebe by this triumphant swain snbdued,  
Repaid his pains with timely gratitude.  
Became more fruitful, than it was before,  
And better plants, and larger apples bore.  
Thus Massinissa, when he won the day,  
And made false Syphax with his troops obey;  
In tilling of his ground he spent his time,  
And tried t'improve the barbarous Libyan clime,   

Great Lewis too, who carefully attends  
His Kingdom Government, sometimes descends  
From his high throne, and in the Country deigns  
To please himself, and slack his Empire's rains.  
For to St, Germans if he chance to go,  
To the Versalian hills, or Fountainbleau,  
He thinks not that it makes his glory less,  
T'improve his ground: his Servants round him press;  
Hundreds with Fruits, Hundreds with Flowers strive  
To fill the place: the water some derive  
Into the Gardens, while with watchful eye  
He oversees the work, and equally  
To every labourer his duty shows;  
And the same care on all the field bestows.  
Nor does the King these arts in vain approve:  
The grateful Earth rewards his Royal love.  
But why should I such great examples name?  
Our age wants nothing that should more inflame  
Its zeal, for since the greatest men now please  
Themselves in cultivating of their trees;  
Since 'tis their praise to do do it, why should you  
Refuse this sweet employment to pursue.  
If fruit of your own raising can invite,  
If in your Villa you can take delight,  
Or can the Country love, to that apply  
Yourself, and to your Plants no pains deny.  
The Stars if kind, or goodness of the soil,  
Help not so much, as never-ceasing toil.  
Then let the Earth more frequent tillage know:  
The stubborn Glebe is vanquished by the Blow.  
When rain or stormy winds pernicious are,  
When the Sun's influence or intemperate Air  
Injurious proves the tilers industry  
And culture all defects will soon supply.  
That this is true, a Marsian clown has shown,  
Who in a little Garden of his own,  
Which he himself manured, had store of fruit,  
While all the Country else was destitute.  
The standing Corn you on his ground might view:  
And Apples broke the boughs on which they grew.  
His neighbours quickly envied his success,  
He by Thessalian arts his grounds did dress,  
They said, and hastened on his early Corn  
By herbs upon the Marsian mountains born,  
Or magical insusions: then replete  
With rage and envy to the judgment-seat  
They halethe blameless swain, where his defence  
He makes, with plain and Rural eloquence.  
His sickle he produces, and his spade,  
And rake, which by long use were brighter made.  
See here, said he, the crimes which I have done:  
If tools by time and usage bright are one.  
These are my magic arts; these are my charms:  
Then, stretching forth his labour stiffened arms  
His Sabine Dame, and Daughters brawny hand  
Inur'd to work, and with the Sunbeams tanned.  
Thus by his industry his cause he gains:  
So much a field improves by constant pains.  
Hence comes good Corn, and hence the Trees are crowned  
With levy boughs, hence 'tis that they abound  
In their choice fruits, in each of which we find  
A colour proper to itself assigned.  
Then let the forked Shears, the Rake, and Prong,  
Crows, Barrows, Mattocks, Rulers which belong  
To th' garden, be for ever clean and bright.  
Let rust on Arms and Trumpets only light.  
Let useless Helmets in the dust be thrown:  
But let Peace bless the Country and the Town.  
Neglect that ground which culture doth refuse,  
Lest there the tiler all his hopes should lose.  
Transfer your pains to some more grateful soil.  
The way of raising Plants now learn a while.   

From all your Garden first a place divide,  
There let the hopeful race be multiplied?  
Seed for your Trees about your fields prepare,  
And let the Stocks confused spring every where.  
There let them all together upward shoot;  
By these supplies your losses you recruit.  
The fairest Plant from stones or kernels grows,  
Then your mixed Seedlings in no rank dispose.  
Along the walls and beds: if from their birth  
They are accustomed to their mother earth;  
They flourish better, be it they derive  
More proper nourishment from her, or thrive  
With more success, where their Forefathers were,  
But you must still a generous stock prefer.  
Whose vigour, and whose spirits are no less,  
Than what its ancestors did once possess.  
That's best which has most joints, but those resuse  
Which at wide distances few buds produce.   

When with due judgement you would choose a place,  
Proper, wherein to raise a future race;  
Let it be in the Sun; without his aid  
The ground will languish, and the fruit will fade,  
He rules the winds, and tempests in the sky;  
And while he views the world with his bright eye,  
He cherishes all things, and vital juice  
Into the withered herbage can infuse,  
He governs the twelve signs, and by him steer  
The courses of the Earth, the Heaven, and year.  
Heaven if observed, great benefits imparts,  
Nor less the rays which glorious Phorbus darts,  
Either when setting he does disappear,  
Or rising guilds the Northern Hemisphere.  
His radiant beams will never shine in vain,  
To him and his sister then who reign  
Together, and Olympus Empire sway;  
Let the glad youth deserved honours pay.  
They both are kind to trees; and both expect  
To be observed: by them your course direct:  
For they well known you have no cause to fear,  
Though different colours in sky appear.  
Yet in the Spring desire not too much heat,  
Lest the remaining cold your hopes defeat:  
And the Sun's kindness than should prove his crime,  
If forward fruit appear before its time,  
Though cheerful blossoms promise you success,  
Trust not the fading Flower, but still suppress  
Your expectations, and for summer stay,  
Whose genial warmth secures them from decay.  
The gardener oft vain Blossoms has believed;  
And with false hopes as oft has been deceived.   

Ith' end of Spring when welcome heat returns  
When every Garden lovely fruit adorns,  
Sometimes a Tree by sudden tempests crossed  
The whole years' Hopes in one short Night has lost.  
The cruel winds now most their rage employ,  
Rough Boreas more than any will destroy.  
The Trees and Orchards, therefore, now, ye swains  
While the fresh Spring your lively plants maintains.  
Now, on your Festivals, by frequent prair  
Avert pernicious winds, and have a care  
In Summer nights of Moons, which nip with cold,  
The cloud engendered Southern gusts withhold;  
And the Sithonian Northern blasts; for these,  
Unless the cautious husbandman foresees  
That they approach him always hurtful are,  
When ever lowering clouds disturb the air  
Yourself with care from future ills defend,  
The Seasons mark, and what the heavens portend.   

When among other seasons of the year  
The time of Graffing comes; do not defer  
In proper stocks young Cions to enclose;  
Then buds between the cloven bark dispose.  
And if your fruit be bad, as oft it will,  
Make choice of better, and remove the ill.  
By these improvements greatest praise you get,  
And thus your Gardens honour you complete.  
Into your stocks the foreign pears admit,  
And far fetched Apples place within the slit.  
Hence springs a nobler race, and greater store  
Of hopeful offspring than you had before.   

The plants you want the neighbourhood will give:  
If not, from distant countries them derive.  
Greece first sought plant in barbarous climes, and then  
She civilised the trees as well as men.  
These still at home she fortunately placed,  
And by translation did correct their taste.  
While ancient Fables reputation gained,  
The then white Mulberry with red was stained.  
Thisbe and Pyramus who yet survive  
In Naso's verse. in Babylon did live:  
A spotless love united both their souls;  
But Parents hate their happiness controls.  
Deluded by their passion they grow bold;  
Not walls, nor strict injunctions them withhold.  
That bliss, which in their life they could not have,  
They found at last by meeting in the grave.  
Hard by the place there stood an aged tree  
Which, as if touched with their sad destiny.  
Imbibes their blood, and caused its frait, which late  
Was pale, to blush at the poor lover's fate.  
So Rhodopeian Phillis heretofore,  
Left by her faithless servant, on the shore,  
When she was pined away with grief and shame,  
An Almond in her father's ground became.  
Pallas gives Olives; Bacchus does bestow  
The Figgs and Vines to Ceres' Corn we owe.   

But, what the Romans did, why should I tell  
Whose arms on trees as well as nations fell?  
While they in chains the victor's Chariots drew,  
Their plants as much enslaved by Tiber grew,  
Into his garden thus from Cerasus  
Lucullus first did Cherrys introduce;  
Damascus' Plums afforded; Media,  
With Lydia, Egypt, India, Caria,  
And Persia Apples gave; and these were brought  
From the Geloni, who with Axes fought.   

Each Nation which had her arms overcome,  
Did thus pay tribute to triumphant Rome.   

Phaliscians' then, who juno most adored,  
Their empty fields with rows of Apples stored.  
And the Crustumian Pears, the Sabines placed  
Ith' Amiternan Vale, th' Auruncans graced  
Taburnus then with Vines and Olives too;  
At these new plants amazed Anio  
Admires: Oenotria likewise then possessed  
Of wholesome air, and with a fat soil blest.  
Fruit bearing trees, which were before unknown  
From other Gardens brought into her own.   

When Plants of a corrected taste are found,  
And Stocks are chosen which are young and sound;  
TheGraffer then th' adoptive bough must bring  
Into those Stocks: of this the means I sing.  
Which though they are distinct, you learn with ease  
How to Graff fruitful slips in barren trees.  
Some cut down trunks, which bore a lofty top,  
And hollow them above, thus woodmen lop  
The tallest Oaks, and cut out four square stakes;  
But first of all a wedge its passage makes.  
This done, the Cions may descend down right  
Into the cleft; and with the Stock unite.  
Though others in the rind betwixt each bud  
Make an incision, and the graft include,  
Which by degrees is afterwards inclined  
T'incorporate itself with the moist rind.  
Some like a slender Pipe the bark divide,  
Or like a Scutcheon slit it down the side.  
Or the hard trunk, which a sharp augur cleaves,  
Into its solid part the Graff receives.  
Mean while, with care, the branches which are joined,  
You with a sev'nfold cord must strongly bind.  
And all the chinks with pitch or wax defend;  
For if the cruel air should once descend  
Into the cleft, it would impede the juice:  
And to the plant its nourishment refuse.   

But, if these dangers it has once endured,  
When the adopted branch is well secured;  
By their conjunction trees their nature loose;  
That which was wild before, more civil grows:  
Unmindful of their mother they forsake  
The taste, which they from her at first did take.  
From yellow Quinces, and Cornelians rise  
Fruits, which are differenced by various dies.  
The Pear thus mends: the Slow affords good Plums:  
And the bad Cherry better now becomes.   

From different boughs distinguished Species shoot;  
But now I tell how you must mix your fruit,  
What branches with each other you may join:  
What sorts will best in amity combine.  
All kinds of Pears the Quinces entertain;  
And them received with their own tincture slain.  
The hoary Pears their taste to Apples give,  
They with the shrubby Willow too will live.  
The Fig would love the Mulberry, if that  
Its blacker hue would somewhat moderate.  
Cherrys with Laurels blushes will compound:  
Apples with Apples do their taste confound.  
And, from the savage Plum, we Pears may raise:  
(If we may credit what Palladius says)  
But Gardeners now, by long experience wise,  
What former ages taught them may despise.   

They of Auvergne in Willows fruits enclose;  
'tis true, at first their colour grateful shows.  
But, by this Marriage they degenerate are,  
And taste but ill, although they look so fair.   

For various Plants what air, and soil is good,  
And that, which hurts them, must be understood.  
Warm air, and moisture is by Apples loved:  
But, if to stony hills they are removed,  
You must not blame them, if they then decay.  
Through a crude soil the Fig will make its way:  
If it be not exposed to the rude North,  
A humid Sand will make the Peach bring forth.  
The Pear, when it has room enough to spread,  
Where it has warmth sufficient over head,  
If it be seconded by the wet ground,  
With swelling fruits, and blossoms will be crowned.  
The backward Mulb'ry chooses to be dry,  
For constant moisture is its enemy.   

And a wet soil the Apple vitiates,  
The Cherry deeply rooted propogates  
If self with freedom as in Italy  
The thriving Olives every where we see.  
A milder ground the Lemon most desires:  
One more severe the yellow Quince requires.  
It is not fit that Apricocks should stand  
In a hot mould, and Cherrys love not sand,  
No more than Strawberrys; which last, if fet  
In earth that's well subdued, if to the heat  
Of the warm Sun exposed, they soon abound  
With juice, their Berrys then grow plump and round.  
Those hills, which favour Bacchus, Lemmons starve:  
And Melons which a gentler clime deserve.  
When a warm situation Plums obtain,  
They quickly recompense the Gardener's pain.   

If in your Orchards any tree seems faint,  
With wont culture cure the sickly plant;  
Ere the whole Trunk is touched with the disease.  
Briars and Weeds which fatal are to Trees  
Where ere the ground is bad the fields infest,  
Whence every bough with faintness is oppressed.  
Culture mends bitter plants; they then, who break  
The surface oftenest up; who most their rake,  
And forked tools about the roots employ;  
They, the best fruits, and noblest trees enjoy.  
But if the soilor sour, or brackish be,  
Neither the careful Ploughman's industry,  
Nor cold, nor frost, or storms of wind or rain,  
Improve those fields, they never can obtain  
Their ancient reputation; all things there  
Grow worse and worse, forgetting what they were.   

When for an Orchard you a seat will choose,  
First learn what sorts of planting are in use:  
Thus with the humours of each place complys,  
In open Plains on which the warm Sun lies.  
There let your Trees aspire in grounds enclosed,  
Let a Dwarf-race of fruit-trees be disposed,  
Whose boughs are round and short: nor bodies tall.  
Some Plash, and tack their Layers on the wall:  
Whilst others make their twisted Branches grow,  
Like a shorn hedge, in a continued row.  
These Rural ornaments by all are sought;  
And if they vary, are more graceful thought.  
Follow these precepts rather much, than those,  
Which our own ancient Husbandmen impose.  
The former age must all its claims resign,  
Now all these arts in perfect lustre shine.   

Trust not your tender Plants too much abroad;  
To Figgs the summer Sun must be allowed.  
Apples, and Nuts, with Cherrys, Plums & Pears,  
And the soft Almond, which all weather bears;  
Let them with freedom in the air ascend.  
And if just tastes you to your Fruit would lend,  
If you would mend their genius, let them take  
Their liberty, for if the Sun does bake  
Them well, if to his light they are displayed,  
They vanquish those which sculk within the shade.  
Either this benefit from Phoebus flows,  
Who on all things his influence bestows;  
Or else great Trunks to make their offspring thrive,  
More juice and vigour from the earth derive.  
Perhaps the middle region of the sky,  
(For duller vapours dare not mount so high)  
Sometimes imparts a favourable Breeze,  
And fans with purer air the tops of Trees.   

Then let your Gardens in the Sun be placed;  
From him your Apples must receive their taste,  
And hardened thus the Summer they endure,  
Those which were crude he renders more mature.  
The tender brood you must defend with care;  
And if you can the little race repair;  
With sharper tools you must restrain excess;  
Or with your hand superfluous leaves suppress.  
And let no bough its parent overshade,  
Nor on a branch let greater weight be laid  
Then it can bear: those blossoms which decay,  
Or are not hopeful you must take away.  
Till a more generous offspring does succeed:  
This is the only way to mend the breed.  
The Mother of her children thus bereaved  
Must with assiduous culture be relieved.   

Though it be welcome to the sordid swain,  
Too fruitful trees their plenty boast in vain:  
Their store destroys them; rather let them feel  
The wholesome sharpness of the crooked steel.  
For, while the Gardener th'useless Flowers invades,  
He greater glory to the Parent adds.  
No tree can long its fruitfulness enjoy;  
Such virtues their possessors soon destroy.  
Unless they cease from bearing, they must waste;  
For no extreme of good can ever last.  
They who retard their sivit deserve more praise,  
Then they who nature by incitements raise.  
Some Gardeners I remember near the town,  
With dung their slower Apples hastened on.  
The usual Method could not them content,  
They by their haste the Seasons did prevent.  
Let no such customs in your Gardens be,  
For these productions are an injury.  
They in a Lethargy the Plants engage,  
And make them subject to untimely age.  
Let not your fruits their seasons then forsake,  
Nor with ungentle hand sour Apples take:  
Lest with Abortian you the mothers kill,  
And your nice stomach with raw humours fill.   

If you are curious how your fruits are died,  
To neighbouring walls their branches must be tied.  
When Titan's rays on them at mid day beat,  
And grow more powerful by reflected heat;  
Those, which are most exposed, will best derive  
The pleasing colours which the Sun can give.   

How this advantage is to be obtained;  
And how t'augment the heat shall be explained,  
First a long wall you must due South erect,  
From thence the most intensive warmth expect.  
This daub with Mortar o'er; which being plain  
Will best reverbe rate the rays again.  
Those vermin too are killed by scorching lime '  
Which would destroy the trees themselves in time.   

Next hooks of Iron fix along the wall,  
On them let Poles or Rods of Willow fall:  
On which the branches may depend in rows,  
The Husbandman with twiggs may tie them close,  
Though others fasten them with knots of wire,  
In time the pliant boughs themselves desire  
To bear that yoke, to which they are restrained,  
If from their tender youth they are enchained.  
That so by long obedience being taught,  
They to their duty may with ease be brought.  
Age does rebellion into shoots instill:  
And makes them stubborn to the benders will.   

Then, that they may comply with greater ease,  
Instruct them in submission by degrees.  
While blooming years permit, and while they have  
An inclination proper to enslave;  
Along your walls young trees betimes expand,  
Which by degrees may stoop to your command.   

The branches, if in decent order placed.  
By servitude are not at all disgraced.  
No more, than when a woman does with care  
Within strict fillets bind her flowing hair:  
Disposing it according to the mode,  
When she intends to show her dress abroad.  
Restraint becomes her hair; and thus a Tree  
When it is captive will more lovely be.  
If lawless twiggs rebel not from the rest;  
And the green mantle does the wall invest.   

These textures noblest tapestry transcend,  
And with their beauty all the place commend.  
Chiefly when different fruits their seasons know,  
And to your sight their various colours show.  
How must it then the Gardener's heart affect,  
To see those beauties he ne'er durst expect;  
While on the fruit-charged wall, the Figgs grow black,  
And Peaches red, the boughs with Apples crack.  
For when the Summer's particoloured race  
Appears, than every tree its wealth displays,  
Which was before beneath the leaves concealed;  
Then 'tis delightful to survey each field,  
To visit all your Villa, and to see  
What fruits and treasures in your Gardens be.  
Nor unaffecting to admire those dies,  
Which on the branchy solds your sight surprise.  
To pluck the early fruit, or if you will,  
Home to convey the Panniers which you fill.  
Whether you search what fruits are of good kind,  
Or would the Genius of your Orchards find;  
Or with what culture Plants will flourish best,  
And when aspiring twiggs must be repressed.  
If you would find what stocks will Graffs admit,  
And how far Graffs their former names forget.  
Your Rural pleasures will excel the pride  
And riches of the great; fame you'll deride.  
And city noise, nor the unconstant wind  
Of Kings, or People's favour stirs your mind.   

Thrice happy they who these delights pursue!  
For whether they their Plants in order view,  
Or overladen boughs with props relieve,  
Or if to foreign fruits new names they give,  
If they razed of every Plum explore,  
To eat at second course, what would they more?  
What greater happiness can be desired,  
Then what by these diversions is acquired?   

You who the beauty of your trees design,  
To each along the walls its seat assign.  
Cherrys with Cherrys, Figgs with Figgs may meet,  
The Syrian and Crustumian Pears are fit  
To mingle with the British, but we find  
That Apples and red Plums must not be joined.  
All that are of a sort together plant,  
They must succeed if they no culture want.  
And when affairs of greater moment cease  
To set their stations be your business.  
For if they have not ample room to spread  
They then both strength and nourishment will need.   

But what the kinds and various natures are  
Of fruitful trees, I must not now declare:  
Nor tell their different appearances,  
Or how the Gardener's art has with success  
Improved our Orchards, what should I count o'er  
Those fruits, which Persia sent us heretofore?  
Why or their taste should I relate, or hue,  
Which more illustrious by its purple grew?  
Some of a thicker substance stick fast on,  
While others which are thinner quit the stone.  
These last with juice and dewy Moisture swell,  
And all the other sorts by much excel.  
Others there are which, like the Plum, are thin,  
And have no down upon their naked skin.  
Their Species, Forms, nor Names I here must sing;  
As those which the Aumenians once did bring  
From their high hills, by native Blushes praised;  
Or those which from great stones Alcinous raised.  
Tibur●ian Peaches I must here forget,  
Than which Picenian ones were thought more sweer.  
Nor here at all of Quinces must I boast,  
Which, when they have no smell, are valued most,  
Chorrys, which at first course are grateful still;  
Or Figgs, which heavenly Nectar do distil.  
I here pass o'er, these from their taste obtain  
More honour, than the mellow Apples gain.   

But Nature never showed more wantonness  
Then, when so many shapes she did impress,  
From Wardens to the Pears which lesser grow,  
And did to each its proper juice allow.  
Some imitate the brisk Falernian Wine,  
Others, like Must, to sweetness more incline.  
In swelling some extravagant appear;  
And crooked Necks with oblong bells bear.  
To Plums and Grapes just commendations yield,  
If on the Wall they are by propped upheld.  
Muscat, and Purple Vines, which both observe  
Their wont seasons, may our praise deserve.  
The humble Strawberrys I would repeat,  
Which are by nature with sweet juice replete.  
And, if I had but leisure, I would sing  
The fragrant odours which from Melons spring.   

When Husbandmen give precepts to expand  
Their trees, to imitate the spreading hand,  
Or backbone of a Fish they sometimes choose,  
When ere one Trunk the branches does produce.  
Successful trials both these ways have had:  
And therefore use of either may be made.   

You cannot be too often put in mind  
Of that advantage which your Plants will find  
By being pruned: the boughs will thus obey,  
And by your tool are fashioned any way.  
Though tough with age, they stoop to your command,  
Nor can the crooked pruning Knife withstand.  
And when the Trees thus cut revive again,  
When from their wounds they borrow courage, than  
Oft exercise your power, and so restore  
Beauty to that, which was deformed before.  
Youth unadvised does in desire exceed:  
And would without all moderation breed.  
The Pruners care must succour each defect,  
He with his hook their vices must correct.  
Superfluous shoots his servants may repress;  
Destructive pity makes them more increase.   

But in what part they must be cut, and how,  
From the experienced you will better know,  
Always untouched the chiefest branches save,  
From whom you hope a future race to have.  
Now if the Season proves reciprocal;  
You may behold your fruit upon the wall.  
Yours Gardens riches then will make you glad;  
Nor think that any thing can colour add,  
Or bigness to them, but that influence,  
Which on their ranks kind Phoebus does dispense.  
Nature your wishes then will satisfy,  
If with these Methods only you comply.  
And though we ripeness to our fruits impart  
By heat on walls reflected, yet this art  
By the reports of dark antiquity,  
In the records of time is set more high.   

And if we may at all our faith engage  
To what we hear of the preceding age.   

Alcinous first, who the Phoeacians swayed,  
Thus to have cultivated Trees is said.  
His stores with usual plenty overflowed,  
And when the year its usual hope had showed,  
From the malicious North arose a blast,  
Which in one night laid all the Garden waist,  
If any Plant by fortune was retrieved,  
And, in the fields, the common fate survived;  
That ruin, which by Boreas was begun,  
Was finished by the spiteful Air and Sun.  
All through the sky unwonted tempests roar,  
And horrid noises the clear Welkin tore.  
The greatest slaughter on the Orchard sals;  
Struck with portents the King the Augurs calls,  
The meaning of the prodigies inquires,  
And their advice upon his loss desires.  
From Calais and Zethes some pretend,  
(Both sprung from Boreas) that these plagues descend.  
The King's alliance both of them had sought,  
Nor were unworthy by the Mother thought:  
The Daughter too their passion had approved,  
But neither were by Prince or People loved.  
Their Father vexed to see his Sons deceived,  
By them perhaps had his revenge contrived.  
Because they both were angry with the King.  
Some from Atlantian Calypse bring  
These mischiefs. Circe only, some accused.  
Calypso mindful how she was abused  
By the Phoeacians, when Laertes she  
From drowning saved, and boasted him to be  
Her right, she then to be revenged, decreed  
That Circe's neighbourhood, and hate might breed  
These ills some think, that she the Moons aspect  
Had changed, and did the purer air infect.   

But good Eurymedon, who was the Priest  
Of Phoebus, and a Prophet better guest.  
Think not, says he, that our misfortunes flow  
From outward causes, to ourselves we owe  
Our dire mishaps; nor did he longer speak.  
The King commands he should his silence break,  
And bids him undiscovered crimes recite.  
Then he; The weight of our affairs permits  
Not many words, when worse events are feared,  
Appease the gods, while prayers may be heard.  
The objects of their vengeance now we are,  
When plenty filled his stores, to his own cate,  
And art, Alcinous did ascribe his fruit.  
Madman that should the gifts of Heaven dispute!  
That, he the Sun and Winds should so neglect,  
Nor his devotions to great jove direct.  
Himself the criminal he then did find,  
Accusing his proved thoughts and haughty mind.   

Straight he repairs to the Phoeacian wood,  
Where the Hesperian Nymph had her abode;  
Where she the Oracles of Heaven spoke,  
Soon a soft voice the sacred silence broke.  
To mighty jupiter twelve Bullocks pay:  
As many more on Titan's Altars lay.  
Both Deity's have been provoked; from them  
Our fruits, and all other our blessings stream.  
They went, and to great jove twelve Bullocks paid:  
And twice six more on Titan's altars laid.  
These rites Eurymedon ordained, should be  
Yearly performed by their posterity.   

Taught by the Nymph Alcinous now immures  
His Orchards in, and so his Plants secures  
From hurtful blasts, and where they wanted heat,  
Upon the Walls he makes the Sunbeams beat.  
This way of setting Trees arose from hence;  
Which, though th' Hesperians had forgot long since,  
The Norman swains revived again; and showed  
Their Servants, that their ground must be allowed  
More warmth, for the reflected Sun alone,  
Could make their fruits attain perfection.  
From hence, this art to Paris old advance,  
And stretched itself through all the parts of France.   

You, who my precepts hear, this ornament,  
Bestow upon your Gardens nor repent  
The building of long walls, and them enfold  
With the green tapestry; no pains withhold.  
And while you do the fruitful youth survey,  
Or among levy textures lose your way;  
When you behold your thriving nurseries,  
Cut all superfluous branches from your Trees.  
The master's hand improves the Orchard most:  
For he, if any Plant its hold has lost,  
Or hang; he trims and ties it up again;  
Thus the neat hedge its beauty does regain.  
Vermin and Erwigs from the leaves he shakes,  
And of those fruits before a trial makes,  
Which he designs at second course to eat:  
The times of gathering he best can set.  
To the deserving praises he extends;  
And those which are deceitful discommends.   

When once the ground is tilled, the Gardener than  
Beginst ' instruct the ruder Husbandmen.  
The taste and merit of each Tree he shows,  
And by what Graffs the Parent better grows.  
For thus is he employed; while every where  
He visits all his wealth with equal care.  
No time is lost: the year with fruits is blest:  
Or else the boughs with blossoms are oppressed.  
Nor slow nor idle labourers must you hire,  
These works excess of diligence require.  
The stubborn Earth and Plants exact the same,  
Which are by pains and culture only tame.  
A backward soil with rotten dung improve,  
And often in the Sun the clods remove.   

If after this the year should prove unkind,  
You must impute it to the spiteful wind.  
Whose powerful blasts all situations sway,  
For still the ground does heavens command obey.  
Be kind ye winds, so shall your altars share  
A part of that, which you with pity spare.   

A thousand enemy's, a thousand ills  
o'er Plants prevail: sometimes the bad air kills  
The hopes o'th' Spring, and therefore you must try  
With greatest care these threatening Plagues to fly.  
If that disease which springs from faulty air,  
With its infection should your fruits impair;  
The gods with vows and prayers supplicate,  
No other remedy is left but that.   

To fell those Trees can be no loss at all,  
Whose age and sickness would your Axe forestall.  
A youthful successor, with better grace,  
And plenty, will supply the vacant place.  
Plants by their looks betray their strength and years,  
If through the gaping rind the wood appears,  
If dying leaves upon the boughs are seen,  
While all the rest are flourishing and green:  
If they look pale, then with your knife invade  
Those branches which afforded too much shade.   

Sometimes beneath the bark a Canker breeds,  
Or burning Moss which like a scab o'er spreads  
The trunk with cruel Venom, these repress  
Before they reach the quick, and ere they seize  
The inward parts, before that all the race  
With a pernicious leaness they disgrace.  
If the exhausted spirits sail to do  
Their offices, if they dengen'rate grow,  
Dig up the Earth and with the dung of swine  
Or the hoarse Stock-dove make it then combine  
The hungry Mould must thus be satisfied.  
And those do well who in deep trenches hide  
Dry Leaves among their Dung, with Fern, or Broom,  
Bean shales, or dirty Ashes are by some  
Thrown on their fields, all these the ground will aid,  
But let it never be too fertile made.  
For as a Tree due nourishmen; may want,  
So too rich Soil destroys the tender Plant.  
And if you know not how a barren field  
Must be encouraged, and with pains be tilled,  
Or if you would allay rich Mould, that art,  
The rules of culture fully will impart.   

When from swift clouds or rain descends, or hail,  
A thousand Plagues your Orchards will assail.  
As Gnats, Worms, Catorpillers which enfold  
The boughs, with buzzing Drones, and Snails enrolled,  
Within their Shells made always circular,  
Of Merops too, and other Birds beware,  
Which from the mischiefs that their Beaks effect,  
Are Tigers called; when these begin t'infect  
Your Nurseries, they are a Pestilence  
With which no careful Gardner must dispense.  
With flying smoke these Enemy's oppose,  
And kill the Vermin on the Leaves and Boughs.  
Flies here, and painted Lizards I omit,  
With cunning Moles, which still avoid the light,  
And Mice, who from their holes their thefts repeat,  
All these with different Traps you must defeat,  
As custom and experience teaches best.  
Nor ought I here more precepts to suggest;  
I write not now to dull unskilful swains,  
Such as of old tilled the Laurentine plains.  
All Husbandmen are now so artful grown,  
That almost nothing can be further shown  
Of culture, nothing can be found out more,  
Then what has been invented long before.  
My hasty Muse permits me not to write  
Of famous Gardens here or to recite  
Those noble Villas, which deserve my verse,  
No● here my Country's honours I rehearse.  
Ye Gardens therefore, and your owners too,  
Forgive me, if you have not what's your due.   

When France her former riches shall regain,  
If our affairs should prosper once again;  
Then by the bounty of a lasting Peace,  
Our labours may be crowned with more success.  
The World of late in Wars has been engaged,  
And stem Enyo through all Europe tagged;  
Famine, and Pestilence, and Fevers reigned,  
The blushing fields with civil Gore were stained.  
The gods were all averse, who can remount  
Those crimes, which do the reach of thought surmount.  
The violated Laws, the broken faith,  
And Nations guilty of their Sov'rains death?  
And heavier ills then these had yet remained,  
If Lewis from the gift of Heaven obtained;  
Had not with powerful arms, and greater mind,  
Repaired our fortune, ere it quite declined,  
Then having stretched his bounds from shore to shore,  
That he might arts and manners too restore,  
And through the World the golden age renew;  
The reins of justice great Lamon to you  
He gave, and you o'er his Tribunals placed:  
When led by you Astroea shall, at last,  
Return to us again, as we have cause  
To hope from the beginnings of your Laws;  
Then shall the Earth in her first glory be;  
And those new arts and methods which by thee  
T' improve their Plants the Husbandmen receive,  
Shall ever in thy native Soil survive.   

Thus much of Gardens, I at Clermont sung,  
In thee sweet Paris; treading all along  
Those sacred steps; which Virgil led before,  
When blest in her affairs, in her King more,  
o'er willing Nations France began to sway:  
And made the universe her Power obey.   
FINIS.   

THE TABLE  
Before the Reader make use of the Table, he is desired to reform in the Book the following Pages, thus:  
For 29 92 48 84 66 76 67 77 68 89 78 79 79 78  


A.  
Abricot, Pag. 203.  
Acanthus Branc Vrsine.  
Bearsfoot 30, also, Thorn 100 118.  
Achilles' spear, 96.  
Aconite, Herba Christi, vide Anthora, 38. 66.  
Adiantum, Black-Oake.  
Ferne, 52.  
AEthiopis, Ethiopian Mullein 38.  
Alca●a, Marsh-mallow, 118.  
Alcinous the Fable, 222.  
Alder, 87. 94.  
Almond, Fable of Phillis, 196.  
Amaracus, Majoran, 46.  
Amaranthus, Velvet-flower, 59  
Amellus, Shire-wort, 60.  
Amymona, the Fable, 156.  
anemony, and Fable, 67.  
Angelica, 59  
Anthemis, Camomile, 19  
Anthora, Wolfebane, 38.  
Antirrhinum, Calves-snout, 31.  
Apium, Parsley, 59  
Apples, 197. 203.  
April, 24.  
Aqueducts, 126. 138, 139. v.  
Fountain, etc.  
Aquilegia. Colombine, 37.  
Arcueil described, 138.  
Armeria, Pinks, 59  
Ash, 93. 95, 96.  
Asphodel, Daffodil, 36.  
After-Atticus, Starwort, 60.  
Atalanta, and Fable, 107. vide Oranges.    


B.  
Bafil, 32.  
Batrachium, Crowfoot, Cranesbill, 136.  
Bays, 113. 115. V. Daphne.  
Beech, 83.  
Bellaquea, Fontain bleau, 172. 174.  
Bellides, Daisyes, 25.  
Berny, 141.  
Birds, 83.  
Blattaria, Moth Mullein, 32.  
Blewbottle, 32.  
Box Knots, 8, 9, 10. 61.  
Bupthalmum, Ox Eye, 60.    


C.  
Calamint, 136.  
Calendula, Marigold, 60.  
Caltha, March-Marigold, 27.  
Canales, 165. 168. 171. 173. V. Fountains, Waterworks, Ponds.  
Canker, 231. V Infirmities.  
Caprifoile, Honysuckle, 118.  
Carnations, V. Gillyflowers, 53.  
Carpine, Hornbeam, 119.  
Cascades, 162. 165. V. Waterworks.  
Celandine, Swallow-wort, 16.  
Centaury, 59  
Cerynthe, Honywort, 38.  
Cerrus, Holme-Oke, 83  
Chamaedries, Germander, 55.  
Cherrys, 196. 201. 203. 216.  
Chestnuts, 88  
Chrysanthes, Corn-Marigold, 46.  
Cicher, Ciche, 30.  
Cicory, 59  
Cityssus, Shrub-Trefoile, 37.  
Clematis, Periwinkle, 59  
St. Cloud described and celebrated, 35. 146.  
Clytie, Sunflower, 57  
Colocasia, Egiptian-Bean, 30.  
Colours, 210.  
Composts, 181. V. Dung.  
Conduits, 144. V. Fountains.  
Convolvulus, Bindweed, 32.  
Conyza, Fleabane, 59 136.  
Coriander, 59  
Cornel, 87. 93.  
Country life, and Villa praised 121. 168. 215.  
Cress, 37.  
Crocus, Saffron, 57 67.  
Crown-Imperial, 20.  
Cyanus, Blue-bottle, 19  
Cyclamen, Showbread, 14.  
Cymbalum, Mountain Lily, 45  
Cypress 100, 101. 103.  
Cyrus, 183.    


D.  
Dalmatis, the Fable, V. Tulip.  
Daphne, the fable, 114. V. Bayes.  
Dauphine his birth, 175.  
December, 66.  
Delphinium, Larkspur, 32.  
Distilling, 48.  
Dodona, 81.  
Dung, 209. 232. V. Compost.  
Dwarf Trees, 205.    


E.  
Echium, Scorpion grass, 52.  
Education, 212.  
Elm, 87, 88, 89.  
Eringo, Sea-Holly, 58.  
Esculus, a species of Oak, 84.  
Ewe, 87.    


F.  
Fabius, 183.  
Felling, 230.  
Fennel, 32.  
Figs, 201, 262, 206.  
Fir, 87. 95.  
Flos jovis, Pansy, 26.  
Flora the Fable, and her Rites, 6. 29.  
Flowers 1. their difference and variety, 10, 11. Culture 27. 62. 65. Seasons, 11. 63, 64. Cautions in gathering, 47. Use 48. 50. Painting, 49.  
Flower de luce, Arms of France, 55. V. Iris.  
Fountains, Origin, 129. Qualities, 135. 137. 143. 157. Artificial, and Cisterns, 143. 145, 146. Aqueducts, Grotts, Cascades, Waterworks, etc.  
Fountainbleau, described and celebrated, 88  
Fox-glove, 38.  
France, its Orchards and Productions, 178.  
Frogs, 169.  
Fruit, 192. Praecoce, Tardy, 209. V. Wall-fruit.  
Fruitfulness, 208.    


G.  
Gardeus, Soil, 3. Situation and Culture, 4, 5. of old not so Elegant, 6, 7.  
Garlands, 24, 26. 48.  
St. Germains, described and celebrated, 35  
Gelsemine, 100 104, 105.  
Granadil, Passionflower, 52.  
Graffing and Graffs, 194. 198.  
Greece, 195.  
Grotts, V. Fountains, Waterworks.  
Groves, where to Plant, 75. 119. infamous to destroy, 81, 82. V. Woods.    


H.  
Halimus, Sea-Purslane, 118.  
Hazle, 87. 93.  
Hedges, 100  
Hedysarum, Hatchetfetches, 59  
Helle bore, 66.  
Helen, Elicampane, 37.  
Hemerocallis, Day Lily, 53.  
Henbane, 59  
Hesperis, Dames-Violet, 53.  
Horminum, Clary, 59  
Hornbeam, 100, 101.  
House-Leek, 31.  
Human Life, 161.  
Hyacinth, jacintb, 67.  
Hylas, V. Isis.  
Hyosciamus, 60. V. Henbane,    


I.  
janthis, the Fable, 16.  
Ilex, Scarlet-Oke, 84.  
Idustry, 187.  
Infirmities of Plants, Vermine, 211. 231. 233.  
Influences, 11, 12. 64. 206, 207.  
Iris, 15. 26. V. Flower de lys,  
Isis and Hylas the Fable, 149.  
Isopirum, Water-Trefoile, 31.  
june, 57  
juniper, 88    


L.  
Laurel, 66. 100  
Lewis XIV. celebrated, 173. 184. 235.  
Ligustrum, Privet, 115.  
Lilies, 55.  
Linden, Lime Tree, 87. 90.  
Limon, 100 109. 203.  
Linaria, Toadflax, 37.  
Linum, Gardenflax, 19 46.  
Liancourt, 141. 164. 172.  
Loire, 141.  
Lopping, 99 121.  
Lotus, Nettle Tree, 87.  
Luxembourg, 146.  
Lychnis, Wild Rose Campion, 19  
Lytrum, Willow Herb, 38.    


M.  
Malva, Wild Mallow, 46.  
Maple, 87. 91.  
March Mallows, 59  
Marsy as, the Fable, 92.  
Massinissa, 184.  
Matricaria, Featherfew, 54.  
Meadow Saffron, 19  
Medune celebrated, 35.  
Meleagris, chequered Daffedil, 52.  
Melilot, Plaster Claver, 46.  
Melissa, Balm, 59  
Melons, 203.  
Merascus, Mezereon, 67.  
Mint, 60.  
Mixture, 201.  
Moly, Sorcerers Garliek, 31.  
Momorancy Vale celebrated, 35  
Moon, 193.  
Mulberry, Fable of Pyramus and Thisbe, 195. 201. 203.  
Myrtle, 26. 100 111. Saered to Venus, 112.    


N.  
Nard, 31.  
Nailing, 219.  
Narcissus, 16. 26. 67.  
Narcissus of japan, 60, 61.  
Nigella, Gith, 60,  
November, 28.  
Nursery, 228, 229.    


O.  
Oak, 76. Culture, Use 84. Fable of Rhoecus, 85. V. Woods, Woods of France, 97, 98.  
Oleander, Rose-bay, 100 111. 113.  
Olives, 197.  
Ononis, Restharrow, 46.  
Oranges, 106. ad 110.  
Orthards, Soil, 176. 179. 202. Situation, 180. 205. Culture, 181, 186. 187.  
Orchis, Dogstones, 55.  
Orobanche, Broom-Rape, 54.  
Orpheus, 90.    


P.  
Painting Flowers, V. Flowers.  
Paliurus, Christ's Thorn, 118.  
Parsley, 30  
Parthenium, Mayweed, 30.  
Peaches, 202. 217.  
Peony and fable, 31.  
Pears, 197. 200, 201, 202. 216. 218.  
Phalangium, Spiderwort, 30.  
Philemon and Baucis, 91.  
Phillyraea, Mock-privet, 100 103. 119.  
Pine, 87. 92.  
Pitch-Tree, 87.  
Planting, 99 182.  
Plums, 204. 216. 196. 200.  
Pomegranate, 115. ad 118.  
Ponds, 165. V. Canales.  
Poplar, 96.  
Poppyes, 57  
Primrose, 14.  
Pruning, 208. 220. 221.    


Q.  
Quiekbearn, 87.  
Quince, 201. 203.    


R.  
Ranunculus, Crowfoot, 26.  
Rhamnus, Hartshorn, 31. 118.  
Rhodanthe Fable, vide Rose.  
Rivers celebrated, 161.  
Rivalets, 156. 159.  
Rocks artificial, 145. V. Grotts, Waterworks.  
Romans, 183.  
Rose and Fable of Rhodanthe, 38, 39 etc.  
Rosemary, 30.  
Rue, 30.  
Ruel described and celebrased, 151. 163.  
Rumex, Dock, 52.  
Ruscus, Butcher's Broom, ●18.  
Water, 125. How to find, 127. 132. 136. Expense, 133. 139.  
Waterworks, Grots, Fountains, 153. 155.  
Watermint, 26.  
Watering, 59 64.  
Weeds, 14. 181. 204.  
Winds, 12. 192. 229.  
Willow. 201  
Withy. 87. 94.  
Woad, 59  
Woods, their planting, 75. 77, 78 79. 120.    


Y.  
Yarrow, 46.