UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 ENGLISH GARDEN: 
 
 A 
 
 POEM. 
 
 I N 
 
 FOUR BOOKS. 
 
 BY W. M A S O N, Af. A. 
 
 A NEW EDITION, CORRECTED. 
 
 TO WHICH A.RE ADDED, 
 
 A 
 
 COMMENTARY AND NOTES, 
 BY W. ...BURGH, Esc^ L.L.D. 
 
 A GARDEN IS THE PURE. C T OF HUMAN PLEASURES; 
 IT IS THE GREATEST REFREFHWENT TO THE SPI- 
 RITS OF MAN, WITHOUT WHICH BUILDINGS AND 
 PALACES ARE HUT GR0SS HANDY-WORKS. AND A. 
 IM \N SHALL EVE* SRE, THAT WHEN AGES GROW TO 
 CIVILITY AND ELEGANCE, MEN COME TO BUILD 
 ST A TEL V, SOONER THAN TO GARDEN FINEL V : AS IF 
 GARDENING WERE THE GREATER PERFECTION. 
 
 V E R U L A M. 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 PRINTED BY P. BYRNE, No. 108, 
 
 
 M.DCQ, L X X XVI.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 S the Four Books, which compofe the 
 following Poem, were publifhed originally 
 1 at very diftant intervals, I thought it expe- 
 dient at the condufion of the laft to fub- 
 } join a Poftfciipt, in which I drew up an 
 j Analyfis of each of them in their order, that 
 " the general plan of the whole work, and 
 [ their connection with one another, might 
 be more accurately conceived. That fhort 
 ; analyfis is now withdrawn, being fuperfed- 
 ed by a copious and complete Commentary, 
 4 which the partiality of a very ingenious and 
 j learned friend has induced him to write 
 : upon it ; a work which I am perfuaded will 
 * be of more utility to thofe readers, who 
 wifh to underftand the fubjeft, than the 
 Poem itfelf will be of entertainment to that 
 more numerous clafs who read merely to 
 be entertained : For myfelf, as toamufe was 
 A 2 only
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 only a fecondary motive with me when 1 
 compofed the work, I freely own that I am 
 more pleafed by a fpecies of writing which 
 tends to elucidate the Principles of my 
 Poem, and to develope its method, than, I 
 fliould have been with that more flattering, 
 vet lefs ufeful one, which interefted iifclf in 
 difplaying what little poetical merit it may. 
 poflfefs. 
 
 Notwithftanding this, I am well aware 
 that many perfons will think rny friend has 
 taken much more pains than were necefiary 
 on this occafion ; and I fliould agree with 
 them in opinion w*ere the Poem only, and 
 not the Subject which it treats, in queflion : 
 But I would with them to difcriminate be- 
 tween thefe two points, and that whatever 
 they may think of the writer's condefcen- 
 lion in commenting fo largely on the one, 
 they would give him credit for the great 
 additional illuftration which he has thrown 
 upon the other, 
 
 Yet
 
 PREFACE. r 
 
 Yet as to the Poem itfelf, I am not with- 
 out my hopes, that in this new Edition 
 I have rendered it fomewhat more worthy 
 of the pains which its Commentator has 
 beftowed upon it, and of that approba- 
 tion which it has already obtained from a 
 very refpeclable part of the public ; hav- 
 ing revifed it very carefully throughout, 
 and purged it, to the befl of my abilities, 
 of many defects in the prior editions. 
 That original Sin, however, which the ad- 
 mirers of Rhyme, and of Rhyme only, 
 have laid to its charge, I have ftill ventured 
 to retain : To this fault I muft flill own 
 myfelf fo blind, that in defence of it I fhall 
 again reprint what I faid before in my for* 
 mer Poflfcript, and make it the conclufion 
 of my prefent Preface. 
 
 " When I 'firft had the fubjed in contem- 
 plation, I found it admitted of two differ- 
 ent modes of compofition: One was that 
 of the regular Didactic Poem, of which the 
 Georgicsof Virgil afford fo perfect an ex- 
 A 3 ample j
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 ample; the other that of the preceptive 
 epiftclary eflay, the model of which Ho- 
 race has given in his Epi/tles Ad Augujium 
 and ad Pifones. I balanced fome time which 
 of thefe I mould adopt, for both had their 
 peculiar merit. The former opened a more 
 ample field for piclijrefque defcription and 
 poetical embellifhment ; the latter was more 
 calculated to convey exac~l precept in con* 
 cife phrafe*. The one furnifhed better means 
 
 of 
 
 * See Mr. Pope's account of his DESIGN in -writing 
 the Eflay on Man, where the peculiar merit of that way, 
 in which he fe greatly exceUed, is mofi happily explain- 
 d. He chofe, he fays, " Verfe, and even Rhyme, for 
 two reafons : Ver r e, becaufe. precepts, fo written, ftrike 
 more ftrongly, and are retained more eafi!y : Rhyme, 
 becaufe it exprefles arguments or innvucT.ons more con-- 
 cifely than even Profe itfelf." As I have lately, ia th , 
 Preface to my Tranflation of Frefnoy's Art of Painting, 
 made ufe of this very reafon for tranfLting that Poem 
 into Rhyme, fome fuperficial readers may think that I 
 hereby contradifl myfelf; but the judiciaus critic will, 
 refer Frefnoy's Poem to HORACE'S ART OF POETRY 
 as to its proper architype, and righil-' deem ir, though 
 
 not an EPISTOLARY, yet a PRECEPTIVE ES*AY. 
 
 \\ hereas the prefeat work cojjes under that fpecies of
 
 PREFACE. viir 
 
 of illuflrating my fubjecTr, and the other of 
 defining it ; the former admitted thofe or- 
 naments only which refulted from lively 
 imagery and figurative diclion ; the latter 
 feemed rather to require the feafoning of 
 wit and fatire; this, therefore, appeared 
 beft calculated to expofe falfe tafte, and 
 that to elucidate the true. But falfe tafte, 
 on this fubjecl, had been fo inimitably ri- 
 diculed by Mr. Pope, in his Epi-ftle to 
 Lord Burlington, that it feemed to preclude 
 all other authors (at leaft it precluded me) 
 from touching it after him; and therefore, 
 as he had left much unfaid on that part of 
 the art on- which it was my purpofe prin- 
 cipally to enlarge, I thought the didactic 
 method not only more open, but more pro- 
 per for my attempt. This matter once 
 determined, I. did. not hefitate as to my 
 choice between blank verfe and rhyme ; 
 becaufe it clearly appeared, that numbers 
 
 of 
 
 compofition which has theGEORGics OF VIRGIL for 
 ks orig'nal, than which no .two modes of, writing csu b 
 jsjore difFiaailar,
 
 viii- PREFACE. 
 
 of the moft varied kind were mofl proper 
 to illuftrate a fubje<5t wbofe every charm 
 fprings from variety, and which, painting 
 Nature as fcorn'mg control, mould employ a 
 verification for that end as unfettered as 
 Nature itfelf. Art, at the fame time, in 
 rural improvements, pervading the province 
 of Nature, unfeen and unfelt, feemed to 
 bear a ftriking analogy to that fpecies of 
 verfe, the harmony of which -.refill ts from 
 meafured quantity and varied cadence, with- 
 out the too ftudied arrangement of final 
 'fyllables, or regular return of confonant 
 founds. I was, notwithstanding, well aware, 
 that by choofing to write in blank verfe, I 
 fhould not court popularity, becaufe I per- 
 ceived it was growing much out of vogue; 
 but this reafon, as may be fuppofed, did 
 not weigh much with a writer, who meant 
 to combat fafliioa in the very theme he in- 
 tended to write upon; and who was allb 
 convinced that a mode of EngKfh verifica- 
 tion, in which fo many good poems, with 
 Paradife Lofl at their head, have been writ- 
 ten,
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 ten, could either not long continue unfa- 
 fluonable; or if it did, that Fafhionhad fo 
 completely deftroyed Tafte, it would not be 
 Worth any writer's while, who aimed at 
 more than, the reputation of the day, to 
 endeavour to amufe the public.* 
 
 THE
 
 THE 
 
 ENGLISH GARDEN. 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 A O thec, divine SIMPLICITY ! to thee, 
 Beft arbitrefs of what is good and fair, 
 This verfe belongs. O, as it freely flows, 
 Give it thy powers of pleafing : elfe in vain 
 It drives to teach the rules, from Nature drawn, 5 
 Of import high to thofe whofe tailc would add 
 To Nature's carelefs graces ; lovelieft then, 
 When, o'er her form, thy eafy fkill has taught 
 The robe of Spring in ampler folds to flew. 
 Hafte Goddefs ! to the woods, the lawns, the 
 vales; 10 
 
 That lie in rude luxuriance, and but wait 
 Thy call to bloom with beauty. I meanwhile, 
 Attendant on thy ftate ferene, will mark 
 Its faery progrefs j wake th' accordant firing j 
 
 And
 
 ( 2 ). 
 
 And tell how far, beyond the tranfient glare i<J 
 
 Of fickle fafhion, or of formal art, 
 
 Thy flowery works with charm perennial pleafe. 
 
 Ye too, ye fitter Powers ! that at my birth, 
 Aufpicious fmil'd; and o'er my cradle drop'd 
 Thofe magic feeds of Fancy, which produce 2O 
 A Poet's feeling, and a Painter's eye-, 
 Come to your votary's aid. For well ye know 
 How foon my infant accents lifp'd the rhyme, 
 How fbon my hands the mimic colours fpread, 
 And vainly ftrove to fnatch a double wreath 25 
 From Fame's unfading laurel: fruitlefs aim; 
 Yet not inglorious j nor perchance devoid 
 Of friendly iife to this fair argument ; 
 If fo, with lenient fmiles, ye deign to chear, 
 At this fad hour *, my defolated foul. 30 
 
 For deem not yc that I refume the ilrain 
 To court the world's applaufe : my years mature 
 Have learn'd to flight the toy. No, 'tis to footh 
 That agony of heart, which they alone, 
 Who beft have lov'd, who beft have been belov- 
 ed* 35 
 Can feel, or pity : fympathy fevere ! 
 Which (he too felt, when on her pallid lip 
 
 The 
 
 * Ver. 30, Note I.
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 The lafl farewell hung trembling, and befpokc 
 
 A wifh to linger here, and blefs the arras 
 
 She left for heav'n. She died", and heav'n is 
 
 hers ! 40 
 
 Be mine, the penfive folitary balm 
 That recollection yields. Yes, Angel pure ! 
 While Memory holds her feat, thy image ftill 
 Shall reign, {hall triumph there ; and when, as 
 
 now, * 
 
 Imagination forms a Nymph divine 45 
 
 To lead the fluent drain, thy modeft blufh, 
 Thy mild demeanor, thy unpra&is'd fmile 
 Shall grace that Nymph, and fweet Simplicity 
 Be drefs'd (Ah meek MARIA !) in thy charms, 
 
 Begin the Song ! and ye of Albion's foris 50 
 Attend ; Ye freeborn, ye ingenuous few, 
 Who heirs of competence, if not of wealth, 
 Preferve that veftal purity of foul 
 Whence genuine tafte proceeds. To you, bleil 
 
 youths, 
 
 I {ing ; whether in Academic groves 55 
 
 Studious ye rove ; or, fraught with learning's (lores, 
 Vifit the Latian plain, fond to tranfplant 
 Thofe arts which Greece did, with her Liberty, 
 Refign to Rome. Yet know, the art I {ing 
 
 B Ev'n
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 Ev'n there ye fhall not learn. Rome knew it 
 not go 
 
 While Rome was free : Ah ! hope not then to find 
 In flavifli fuperftitious Rome the fair 
 Remains. Meanwhile, of old and claffic aid 
 Tho' fruitlefs be the fearch, your eyes entranc'd 
 Shall catch thofe glowing fcenes, that taught a 
 CLAUDE 65 
 
 To grace his canvafs with Hefperian hues : 
 And fcenes like thefe, on Memory's tablet drawn, 
 Bring back to Britain ; there give local form 
 To each Idea ; and, if Nature lend 
 Materials fit of torrent, rock, and lhade, 70 
 
 Produce new TIVOLIS. But learn to rein, 
 O Youth ! whofe ikill efTays the arduous taflc, 
 That fkill within the limit fhe allots. 
 Great Nature fco r ns controul : (he will not bear 
 One beauty foreign to the fpot or foil 75 
 
 She gives thee to adorn : 'tis thine alone 
 To mend, not change her features. Does her hand 
 Stretch forth a level lawn ? Ah, hope not thou 
 To lift the mountain there. Do mountains frown 
 Around ? Ah, wirti not there the level lawn. 80 
 Yet fhe permits thy art, difcreetly us'd, 
 To fmooth the rugged and to fwell the plain. 
 But dare with caution ; elfe expect, bold man ! 
 
 The
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
 The injur'd Genius of the place to rife 
 
 In felf-defence, and, like fome giant fiend 85 
 
 That frowns in Gothic ftory, fwiit deftroy, 
 
 By night, the puny labours $ thy day. 
 
 What then muft he attempt, whom niggard Fate 
 Has fixt in fuch an inaufpicious fjrot 
 As bears no trace of beauty ? muft he fit 90 
 
 Dull and inactive in the defert wafte, 
 If Nature there no happy feature wears 
 To wake and meet his {kill ? Believe the Mufe, 
 She does not know that inaufpicious fpot 
 Where Beauty is thus niggard of her (lore: 95 
 Believe the Mufe, thro' this terreftrial vaft 
 The feeds of grace are fown, profufely fown, 
 Ev'n where we leaft may hope : the defert hills 
 Will hear the call of Art ; the vallies dank 
 Obey her juft behefts, and fmile with charms IOO 
 Congenial to the foil, ana all its own. 
 
 For tell me, where's the defert ? there alone 
 Where man refides not ; or, if 'chance refides, 
 He is not there the man his Maker form'd, 
 Induftrious man, by heav'n's firft law ordain'd 105 
 To earn his food by labour. In the wade 
 Place thou that man with his primaeval arms, 
 
 Bz His
 
 ( 6 ) 
 
 His plough-fhare, and his fpade ; nor (halt thou long 
 impatient wait a change ; the wafte fhall fmile 
 With yellow harvefts ; what was barren heath 1 10 
 Shall foon be verdant mead. Now let thy Art 
 Exert its powers, and give, by varying lines, 
 The foil, already tam'd, its finifh'd grace. 
 
 Nor lefs obfequious to the hand of toil, 
 If Fancy guide that hand, will the dank vale 115 
 Receive improvement meet ; but Fancy here 
 Muft lead, not follow Labour ; ihe muft tell 
 In what peculiar place the foil fhall rife, 
 Where fink ; prefcribe what form, each fluice (hall 
 
 wear, 
 
 And how direct its courfe ; whether to fpread 120 
 Broad as a lake, or, as a river pent 
 By fringed banks, weave its irriguous way 
 Thro' lawn and (hade alternate : for if She 
 Prefide not o'er the taik, the narrow drains 
 Will run in tedious parallel, or cut 125 
 
 Each other in (harp angles ; hence implore 
 Her fwift affiftance, ere the ruthlefs fpade 
 Too deeply wound the bofom of the foil. 
 
 Yet, in this lowly fite, where all that charms 
 Within itfelf muft charm, hard is the ta(k 13.0 
 
 Impos'd.
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
 Impos'd on Fancy. Hence with idle fear ! 
 Is (he not Fancy ? and can Fancy fail 
 In fweet delufions, in concealments apt, 
 And wild creative power ? She cannot fail. 
 And yet, full oft, when her creative power, 135 
 Her apt concealments, her delufions fweet 
 Have been profufely lavilh'd ; when her groves 
 Have (hot, with vegetative vigour ftrong, 
 Ev'n to their wifh'd maturity ; when Jove 
 Has roll'd the changeful feafons o'er her lawns, 140 
 And each has left a blefling as it roll'd : 
 Ev'n then, perchance, fome vain faftidious eye 
 Shall rove unmindful of furrounding charms 
 And afk for profpeft. Stranger ! 'tis not here. 
 Go feek it on fome garifh turret's height; 145 
 Seek it on Richmond's or on Windfor's brow > 
 There gazing, on the gorgeous vale below, 
 Applaud alike, with fafhicm'd pomp of phrafe, 
 The good and bad, which, in profufion, there 
 That gorgeous vale exkibits. Here meanwhile, 150 
 Ev'n. in the dull, unfeen, unfeeing dell, 
 Thy taile contemns, (hall Contemplation imp 
 Her eagle plumes; the Poet here (hall hold 
 Sweet converfe with his Mufe ; the curious Sage, 
 Who comments on great Nature's ample tone, 155 
 Bj Shall
 
 Shall find that volume here. For here are caves, 
 Where rife thofe gurgling rills, that fin;* the fong 
 Which Contemplation loves ; here fhadowy glades* 
 Where thro' the tremulous foliage daits the ray, 
 That gilds the Poet's day-dream ; here the tarf 160. 
 Teems with the vegetating race ; the air 
 Is peopled with the infect tribes, that float 
 Upon the noontide beam, and call the Sage 
 To number and to name them. Nor if here 
 The Painter comes, (hall his enchanting art 165 
 Go back without a boon : for Fancy here, 
 With Nature's living colours, forms a fcene 
 Which R u i s D \ L E beft might rival : chryftal; 
 
 lakes, 
 
 O'er which the giant oak, himfelf a grove, 
 Flings his romantic branches, and beholds 170 
 His reverend image in th' expanfe below. 
 If diflant hills be wanting, yet our eye 
 Forgets the- want, and with delighted gaze 
 Refts on the lovely foreground ; there applauds 
 The art, which, varying forms and blending 
 
 hues, 175 
 
 Gives that harmonious force of (hade and light, 
 Which makes the landfcape perfed. Art like this 
 Is only art, all elle abortive toil. 
 
 Come
 
 ( 9 ). 
 
 Come then, them Sifter Mufe, from whom the 
 
 mind 
 
 Wins for her airy vifions colour, form, 180 
 
 And fixt locality, fweet Painting, come 
 To teach the docile pupil of my fong, 
 How much his practice on thy aid depends. 
 
 Of Nature's various fcenes the Painter culls 
 That for his fav'rite theme, where the fair 
 whole 185 
 
 Is broken into ample parts, and bold ;- 
 Where to the eye three well-mark'd distances 
 Spread their peculiar colouring. Vivid green, 
 Warm brown, and black opake the foreground bears 
 Confpicuous ; fober olive coldly marks 190 
 
 The fecond diftance ; thence the third declines 
 In fofter blue, or, lefs'ning ftill, is loft 
 In fainted purple. When thy tafte is call'd 
 To deck a fcene where Nature's felf prefents 
 AH thefe diftin& gradations, then rejoice 195 
 
 As does the Painter, and like him apply 
 Thy colours : plant thou on each feparate part 
 Its proper foliage. Chief, for there thy (kill 
 Has its chief fcope, enrich with all the hues 
 That flowers, that ftrubs, that trees can yield, the 
 fides 200 
 
 Of
 
 C 10 ) 
 
 Of that fair path, from whence our fight is led 
 Gradual to view the whole. Where'er thou wind'ft 
 That path, take heed between the fcene and eye, 
 To vary and to mix thy chofen greens. 
 Here for a while with cedar or with larch, 205 
 That from the ground fpread their clofe texture, 
 
 hide 
 
 The view entire. Then o'er feme lowly tuft, 
 Where rofe and woodbine bloom, permit its charms 
 To burft upon the fight ; now thro' a copfe 
 Of beech, that rear their fmooth and (lately trunks, 
 Admit it partially, and half exclude, 2i I 
 
 And half reveal its graces: in this path, 
 How long foe'er the wanderer roves, each ftep 
 Shake wake frefli beauties ; each ftiort point prefent 
 AdiiFerent picture, new, and yet the fame. 215 
 
 Yet fome there are who fcorn this cautious rule, 
 And fell each tree that intercepts the fcene. 
 OgreatPoussiN ! O Nature's darling, CLAUDE ! 
 What if fo.ne rafh and facrilegious hand 
 Tore from your canvafs thofe umbrageous 
 pines 220 
 
 That fro'Vii in front, and give each azure hill 
 The charm of contraft ! Nature fuffers here 
 
 Like
 
 C ii ) 
 
 Like outrage, and bewails a beauty loft, 
 Which Time with tardy hand fliall late reftore. 
 
 Yet here the fpoiler refts not ; fee him rife 225 
 Warm from his devaftation, to improve, 
 For fo he calls it, yonder ehampian wide. 
 There on each bolder brow in fhapes acute 
 His fence he fcatters ; there the Scottifh. fir 
 In murky file lifts his inglorious head, 230 
 
 And blots the fair horizon. So mould art 
 Improve thy pencil's favage dignity,. 
 SALVATOR ! if where, far as eye can pierce, 
 Reck pil'd on rock, thy Alpine heights retire, 
 She flung her random foliage, and difturb'd 235 
 The deep repofe of the majeftic fcene. 
 This deed were impious. Ah, forgive the thought 
 Thou more than Painter, more than, Poet ! HE, 
 Alone thy equal, who was " Fancy's child," 
 
 Does then the Song forbid the Planter's 
 hand 240 
 
 To clothe the diftant hills, and veil with woods 
 Their barren fummits ? No, it but forbids 
 All poverty of clothing. Rich the robe, 
 And ample let it flow, that Nature wears 
 On her thron'd eminence : where'er Ihe takes 245 
 
 Her
 
 Her horizontal march, pur fue her ftep 
 
 With fweeping train of foreft ; hill to hill 
 
 Unite with prodigality of (hade. 
 
 There plant thy elm, thy chefnut ; nourifli there 
 
 Thofe fapling oaks, which, at Britannia's call, 250 
 
 May heave their trunks mature into the main, 
 
 And float the bulwarks of her liberty : 
 
 But if the fir, give it its ftat'.on meet ; 
 
 Place it an outguard to th' aflailing north, 
 
 To ftiield the infant fcions, till poITeft 255 
 
 Of native ftrength, they learn alike to fcorn 
 
 The bhft and their prote&ors. FoiTier'd thus, 
 
 The cradled hero gains from female care 
 
 His future rigor; but, that vigor felt, 
 
 He fpringi indignant from his nurfe's arms, 25o 
 
 Nods his terrific helmet, lhakes his fpcar, 
 
 And is that awful thing which heav'n ordain'd 
 
 The fcourge of tyrants, and his country's pride. 
 
 If yet thy art be dubious how to treat 
 Nature's neglected features, turn thy eye 26$ 
 To thofe, the matters of correfc defign, 
 Who, from her vaft variety, have cull'd 
 The lovelieft, boldeft parts, and new arrang'd j 
 Yet, as herfelf approv'd, herfclf infpir'd. 
 In their immortal works thou ne'er {halt finU 270 
 
 Dull
 
 ( 13 ) 
 
 Dull uniformity, contrivance quaint, 
 Or labour'd littlenefs ; but contrails broad, 
 And carelefs lines, whofe undulating forms 
 Play thro' the varied canvafs : thefe tranfplant 
 Again on Nature ; take thy plaftic fpade, 275 
 It is thy pencil ; take thy feeds, thy plants, 
 They are thy colours ; and by thefe repay 
 With intereft every charm fhe lent thy art. 
 
 Nor, while I thus to Imitation's realm 
 Direci thy ftep, deem I dired thee wrong ; 280 
 Nor aflc, why I forget great Nature's fount, 
 And bring thee not the bright ini'piring cup 
 From her original fpring ? Yet, if thou afk'ft, 
 Thyfelffhalt give the anfwer. Tell me why 
 Did RAPHAEL fteal, when his creative hand 285 
 Imag'd the Seraphim, ideal grace 
 And dignity fupernal from that {lore 
 Of Attic fculpture, which the ruthlefs Goth 
 Spar'd in his headlong fury ? Tell me this : 
 And then confefs that beauty bed is taught 290 
 By thofe, the favour'd few, whom Heav'n has 
 
 lent 
 
 The power to feize, fele&, and reunite 
 Her loveliefl feat ares ; and of thefe to form 
 One Archetype coir. pleat of Ibvereign Grace. 
 
 Here
 
 C 14 ) 
 
 Here Nature fees her faireft forms more fair ; 295 
 Owns them for hers, yet owns herfelf excell'd 
 By what herfelf produc'd. Here Art and She 
 Embrace ; connubial Juno frniles benign, 
 And from the warm embrace Perfection fprings. 
 
 Roufe then each latent energy of foul 300 
 
 To clafp ideal beauty. Proteus-like, 
 Think not the changeful Nymph will long 
 
 elude 
 
 Thy chafe, or with reluctant coynefs frown. 
 Infpir'd by Her thy happy art fhall learn 
 To melt in fluent curves whate'er is ftfaight, . 305 
 Acute, or parallel. For, thefe unchang'd, 
 Nature and (he difdain the formal fcene. 
 'Tis their demand, that ev'ry ftep of Rule 
 Be fever'd from their fight : They own no charm 
 But thofe that fair Variety creates, 310 
 
 Who ever loves to undulate and fport 
 In many a winding train. With equal zeal 
 She, carelefs Goddefs, fcorns the cube and cone, 
 As does mechanic Order hold them dear : 
 Hence fprings their enmity ; and he that 
 
 hopes 315 
 
 To reconcile the foes, as well might aim 
 With hawk and dove to draw the Cyprian car. 
 
 Such
 
 Such fentence paft, where fhall the Dryads 
 
 fly 
 
 That haunt yon ancient Vifti ? Pity, fure, 
 Will fpare the long cathedral ifle of fhade 320 
 
 I n which they fojourn; Tafte were facrilege, 
 If, lifting there the axe, it dar'd invade 
 Thofe fpreading oaks that in fraternal files 
 Have pair'd for centuries, and heard the ftrains 
 Of SIDNEY'S, nay, perchance, of SURRY'S 
 reed. 325 
 
 Yet muft they fall, unlefs mechanic Skill, 
 To fave her offspring, roufe at our command ; 
 And, where we bid her move, with engine huge, 
 Each ponderous trunk, the ponderous trunk there 
 
 move. 
 
 A work of difficulty and danger try'd, 330 
 
 Nor oft fuccefsful found. But if it fails, 
 Thy axe muft do its office. Cruel tafk, 
 Yet needful. Truft me, tho' I bid thee ftrike, 
 Reluctantly I bid thee : for my foul 
 Holds dearanantientoak, nothingmoredear j 335 
 It is an antient friend. Stay then thine handj 
 And try by faplings tall, difcreetly plac'd 
 Before, between, behind, in fcatter'd groups, 
 To break th' obdurate line. So may'ft thou fave 
 ( C A chofcn
 
 A chofen few ; and yet, alas, but few 340 
 
 Of thefe, the old prote&ors of the plain. 
 Yet fhall thefe few give to thy opening lawn 
 That fhadowy pomp, which only they can give ? 
 For parted now, in patriarchal pride, 
 Each tree becomes the father of a tribe ; 345 
 
 And, o'er the {tripling foliage, rifing round, 
 Towers with paternal dignity fupreme. 
 
 And yet, my Albion ! in that fair domain, 
 Which Ocean made thy dowry, when his love 
 Tempeftuous tore thee from reluSant Gaul, 350 
 And bade thee be his Queen, there ftill remains 
 Full many a lovely unfrequented wild, 
 Where change like this is needlefs ; where no 
 
 lines 
 
 Of hedge-row, avenue, or of platform fquare 
 Demand definition. In thy fair domain, 355 
 Yes, my lov'd Albion ! many a glade is found, 
 The haunt of Wood-gods only : where if Art 
 E'er dar'd to tread, 'twas with unfandal'd foot. 
 Printlefs, as if the place were holy ground. 
 And there are fcenes, where, tho' {he whilom 
 trod, 360 
 
 Led by the worft of guide?, fell Tyranny, 
 
 And
 
 ( I? ) 
 
 And ruthJefs Superftition, we no r .v trace 
 Her footiteps with delight ; and pleas'd revere 
 What once had rous'd our hatred. But to Time, 
 Not her, the praife is due : his gradual touch 365 
 Has moulder'd into beauty many a tower, 
 Which, when it frown'd with all its battlements, 
 Was only terrible ; and many a fane 
 Monaflic, which, when deck'cl with all its fpircs-, 
 S-iVd but to teed Tonic parnper'd Abbot's 
 
 pride, 370 
 
 And awe th' unletter'd vulgar. Generous Youth, 
 Whoe'er thou art that liften'ft to my lay, 
 And feePft thy foul aflent to what I (ing, 
 Happy art thou if thou can'ft call thine own 
 Such fcenes as thefe : where Nature and where 
 
 Time 375 
 
 Have worked congenial ; where a fcatter'd hoil 
 Of antique oaks darken thy fidelong hills ; 
 While, rufliing thro' their branches, rifted cliffs 
 Dart their white heads, and glitter thro' the gloom. 
 More happy ftill, if one fuperior rock 380 
 
 Bear on its brow the {hiver'd fragment huge 
 Of ;b>ne o!d Norman fortrefs ; happier far, 
 Ah, then mod happy, if thy vale below 
 Wafh, with the cryftal coolnefs of its rills, 
 Some mould'ring abbey ? s ivy-vefled wall. 385 
 
 C a O how
 
 O how unlike the fcen? my fancy forms, 
 Did Folly, heretofore, with Wealth confpire 
 To plan that formal, dull, disjointed fcene, 
 Which once was calFd a Garden. Britain flill 
 Bears on her bread full many a hideous wound 390 
 Given by the cruel pair, when, borrowing aid 
 From geometric (kill, they vainly ftrove 
 By line, by plummet, and unfeeling flieers, 
 To form with verdure what the builder form'd 
 With (lone*. Ejreglous madncfs > }ct pur- 
 fu'd 395 
 
 With pains unwearied, with ezpencc unfumm'd, 
 Arid-fcicnce doatin^. Hence the fidelcng walls 
 Of (haven yew j the holly's prickly arms 
 Trimm'd into high arcades ; the tonfilc box 
 Wove, in mofaic mode of many a curl, 400 
 
 Around the figur'd carpet of the lawn. 
 Hence too deformities of harder cure : 
 The terras mound uplifted ; the long line 
 Deep delv'd of flat canal ; and all that toil, 
 Milled by taftelefs Fafnion, could atchieve 405 
 To mar fair Nature's lineaments divine. 
 
 Long was the night of error, nor difpell'd 
 By Him that rofe at learning's earlieft dawn, 
 
 Prophet 
 
 * Ver. 355, Not= II.
 
 ( '9 ) 
 
 Prophet of unborn Scicn:e. On thy realm, 
 Philo r opy ! his fovereign luftre fpread 410 
 
 Yet -lid he deign to light with cafual glance 
 The wilds oftafte. Yes, fageft VERULAM, * 
 'Twas thine to banifti from the royal grove 
 Eachchildifh vanity ofcrifped knot 
 And fculptur'd foliage ; to the lawn reftore 415 
 Its ample fpace, and bid it feaft the fight 
 With verdure pure, unbroken, unabridged : 
 For Verdure fooths the eye, as rofeate fweets 
 The fmell, or mufic's melting {trains the ear. 
 
 So taught the Sage, taught a degenerate reign 420 
 What in El za's golden day was tafte. 
 Net but the mode of that romantic a^e, 
 The ags of tourneys, triumphs and quaint rrafq'Jts, 
 Glard with fantaftic pagesntr rnn/d 
 
 The fober eye of truth, and dazzled ev'n 425 
 The Sa>re himfelf; w;tne> !': hiu;-:-r.rch'd hedge, 
 In p r llar'd ilatc by carpentry up l .c: ::, 
 
 .olour'd mirrors deck'dand pri.on'd bird:. 
 But, when our ftep has pac'd his proud par- 
 
 terr-, 
 And reach" .': our 
 
 c . ve 4:^ 
 
 C 3 Sporting
 
 ( 20 ) 
 
 Sporting in all her lovely carelefinefs. 
 
 There fm'Ies in varied tufts the velvet rofe, 
 
 There flaunts the gadding woodbine, fwells the 
 
 ground 
 
 In gentle hillocks, and around its fides 
 Thro' blo-Tom'd ftiades the fecret pathway fteals. "435 
 
 Thus, with a Poet's power, the Sage's pen 
 Pourtray'd*that nicer negligence of fcene, 
 Which Tafle approves. WhileHe, delicious Swain, 
 Who tun'd his oaten pipe by Mulla's ftream, 
 Accordant touch'djihe flops in Dorian mood ; 440 
 What time he 'gan to paint the fairy vale. 
 Where ftands the Fane of Venus. Well I ween 
 That then, if ever, COLIN, thy fond hand 
 Did fteep its pencil in the well-fount clear 
 Of true {implicit}- ; and " call'd in A r t 445 
 
 " Only to fecond Nature, and fupply 
 " AH that the Nymph forgot, or left forlorn." * 
 Yet what avail'd the fon^ ? or what avail'd 
 Ev'n thine, TIio-j chief of Birds, whofe miglit/ 
 
 mind, 
 
 With in-.vard light irradiate, mirror-like 450 
 
 R.:ceiv'd,.and to mankind with ray reflex 
 IF he fov'rcign Planter's primal wo-rk difplay'd ? 
 
 That 
 
 .* Ye.-. 4 V7, Not; IV,
 
 * That work, " where not nice Art in curious 
 
 knots, 
 
 te But Nature boon pour'd forth on hill and dale 
 f< Flowers worthy of Paradife ; \vhileallaround455 
 " Umbrageous grotts, and caves of cool recefs, 
 " And murmuring waters down the flops difpers'd, 
 " Or held, by fringed banks, in chryftal lakes, 
 " Compofe a rural feat of various view." 
 'Twas thus great Nature's Herald blazon'd 
 
 high 460 
 
 That fair original Smprefs, which fhe bore 
 In ftate fublime ; o'er mifcreated Art, 
 Offspring of Sin and Shame, the banner feiz'd, 
 And with adulterate pageantry defil'd. 
 Yet vainly, MILTON, did thy voice proclaim 465 
 Thefe her primaeval honours. Still (he lay 
 Defac'd, deflower'd, full many a ruthtefs year: 
 Alike, when Charles, the abj eel: tool of France, 
 Came back to fmile his fubjeb into flaves ; 
 Or Bdgic William, with his warriour frown, 470 
 Coldly declar'd them free ; in fetters flill 
 The Goddefs pin'd, by both alike oppreft. 
 
 Go to the Proof ! behold what TE MPLE call'd 
 A perfecl: Garden. There thou fnalt not find 
 
 One 
 # Ver. 458, Note V.
 
 One bkde of verdure, but with aching feet 475 
 From tei is d v,v,i to terras (halt defcend, 
 Step following ftep, by tedious flight of ftairs : 
 On leaden platforms now the noon-day fun 
 Shall <corch thee ; now the dank arcades of ftone 
 Shall chill thy fervour ; happy, if at length 480 
 Thou reach the Orchard, where the fparing turf* 
 Thro' equal lines, all centring in a point, 
 Yields thee a fofter tread. And yet full oft 
 O'er TEMPLE'S ftudious hour did Truth prefide, 
 Sprinkling her luflre o'er his cluffic page : 485 
 There hear his candor own in faftiion's fpite, 
 In fpite of courtly dulnefs, hear it own 
 " There is a grace in wild variety 
 t( Surpafling rule and order." -j- TEMPLE, yes, 
 There is a grace; and let eternal wreaths 490 
 Adorn their brows who fixt its empire here. 
 The Mufe fhall hail the champions that herfelf 
 Led to the fair achievement +. ADDISON, 
 Thou polilh'd Sage, or fhall I call thee Bard, 
 I fee thee come : around thy temples play 405 
 The lambent flames of humour, bright'ning mild 
 Thy judgment into liniles ; gracious thou com'fi: 
 With Satire at thy fide, who checks her frown, 
 
 But 
 
 * Ver. 481, No'eVI. f Ver. 4^9, Note VII. 
 
 X Ver. 493, Note V11I.
 
 ( 23 ) 
 
 But not her fecret fting. With bolder rage 
 POPE next advances : his indign.mt arm 500 
 
 Waves the poetic brand o'er Timon's fhades, 
 And lights them to deftrution ; the fierce blaze 
 Sweeps thro' each kindred Viftaj Groves to Groves* 
 Nod their fraternal farewell, and expire. 
 And now, elate with fair-earn'd victory, 505 
 
 The Bard retires, and on the Bank of Thames 
 Erets his flag of triumph ; wild it waves 
 In verdant fptendor, and behold?, and haifo 
 The King of Rivers, as he rolls along. 
 KENT is his bold afiociate, KENT who felt 510 
 The pencil's power : -f but, fir'd with higher forms 
 Of Beauty, than that pencil knew to paint, 
 V/ork'd with the living hues that Nature lent, 
 And realiz'd his Landscapes. Generous He, 
 Who gave to Painting, what the wayward 
 
 Nymph 515 
 
 Refus'd her Votary, thofe E'yfian fceues, 
 Which would me emulate, her niceft hand 
 Muft all its force of light and made employ. 
 On thee too, SOUTHCOTE, mall the Mufe be- 
 
 ftow 
 
 No vulgar praife : for thou to humbleft things 520 
 Could'ft give ennobling beauties ; deck'dby thee, 
 
 The 
 
 * Vcr. 503, Note IX. -f Ver 511, Note X.
 
 The fimple Farm eclips'd the Garden's pride,* 
 
 Ev'n as the virgin blufh of innocence, 
 
 The harlotry of Art. Nor, SHEXSTONE, thou 
 
 Shalt pafs without thy meed, thou fon of peace ! 525 
 
 Who knew'ft, perchance, to harmonize thy ihades 
 
 Still fofter than thy fong ; yet was that fong 
 
 Nor rude, nor inharmonious, when attun'd 
 
 To paftoral pliint, or tale of flighted love, 
 
 HIM too, the living Leader of thy powers, 530 
 
 Great Nature ! him the Mufe (hall hail in notes 
 
 Which antedate the praife true Genius claims 
 
 From juft Poflerity : Bards yet unborn 
 
 Shall pay to BROWN that tribute, fitlieft paid 
 
 In ftrains, the beauty of his fcenes infpire. 535 
 
 Meanwhile, ye youths ! whofe fympathetiq fouls 
 Would taile thole genuine charms, which faintly 
 
 . f fmile 
 
 'In my defcriptive fong, O vifit oft 
 The tini{h'd fcenes, that boifl; the forming hand 
 Of thefe creative Genii ! feel ye there 540 
 
 What REYNOLDS fell:, when firft the Vatican 
 Unbarr'd her gates, and to his raptur'd eye 
 Gave all the godlike energy that flow'd 
 From MICHAEL'S pencil; feel what GARRICK felt, 
 
 When 
 
 * Ver. 5:1, Note XI.
 
 When firft he breath'd the foul of Shakefpear's 
 page. 545 
 
 Sofliall your Art, if call'd to grace a fcene 
 Yet unadorn'd, with tafte inftinSive give 
 Each grace appropriate ; to your a&ive eye 
 Shall dart that glance prophetic, which awakes 
 The flumbring Wood-nymphs ; gladly lhall they 
 rife 551 
 
 Oread, and Dryad, from their verdurous beds, 
 nd fling their foliage, and arrange their ftems, 
 s you, and beauty bid : the Naiad train, 
 like obfequious, from athoufand urns 
 hall pour their cryftaline tide ; while, hand in 
 hand, 556 
 
 ertumnus, and Pomona bring their ftorcs, 
 ruitage, and flowers of ev'ry blufh, and fcent, 
 ach varied feafon yields ; to you they bring 
 he fragrant tribute ; ye, with generous hand 
 )iffufe the blefling wide, till A'bion fmile 560 
 )ne ample theatre of fylvan Grace. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST BOOK. 
 
 THE
 
 THE 
 
 SNGLISH GARDEN. 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND.
 
 THE 
 
 ENGLISH GARDEN, 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 JTl AIL to the Art, that teaches Wealth and Pride 
 How to pofTefs their wifh, the world's applaufe, 
 Unmixt with blame ! that bids Magnificence 
 Abate its meteor, glare, and learn to fliine 
 Benevolently mild ; like her,, the Queen 5 
 
 Of Night, who failing thro' autumnal fides, 
 Gives to the bearded product of the plain 
 Her ripening luftre, lingering as Ihe rolls,. 
 And glancing cool the falutary ray 
 Which fills the fields with plenty *. Hail that Art 10 
 Ye fwains ! for, hark ! with lowings glad, your herds 
 Proclaim its influence, wandering o'er the lawns 
 Reftor'd to them and Nature ; now no more 
 hall Fortune's Minion, rob them of their right, 
 
 D 2 Ot 
 
 * Ver. 10. NoteXIL
 
 ( 30 ) 
 
 Or round his dull domain with lofty wall 15 
 
 Oppofe their jocund prefence. Gothic Pomp 
 Frowns and retires, his proud behefts are fcorn'd; 
 Now Tafte infpir'd by Truth exalts her voice, 
 And (he is heard. " Oh, let not man mifdeem ; 
 " Wafte is not Grandeur, Fafhion ill fupplies 20 
 " My facred place, and Beauty {"corns to dwell 
 " V/here Ufe is exil'd." At the awful found 
 The terrace finks fpontaneous > on the green, 
 Broidcr'd with crifped knots, the tonfile yew 
 Wither and fall ; the fountain dares no more 25 
 To fling its wafted cryftal thro' the iky, 
 But pours falubrious o'er the parched lawn 
 Rills of fertility. Oh beft of Arts 
 That works this happy change ! true Alchymy, 
 Beyond the Roficrufian boaft, that turns 30 
 
 Deformity to grace, expence to gain, 
 And pleas'd reflores to Earth's maternal lap 
 The long-loft fruits of AMALTHEA'S horn. 
 
 When fuch a theme, the Poet fmiles fecurc 
 Of candid audience, and with touch afTur'd 35 
 Refumes his recd'AscRjEAN ; eager he 
 To ply its warbling ftops of various note 
 In Nature's caufe, that Albion's liftenmg youths, 
 Inform'd ere while to fcorn the long-drawn lines 
 
 Of
 
 Of flraight formality, alike may fcorn 40 
 
 Thofe quick, acute, perplex'd, and tangled paths, 
 That, like the frrake crufli'd by the fharpen'd 
 
 fpade, 
 
 Writhe in convulfive torture, and full oft>. 
 Thro' many a dank and unfunn'd labyrinth, 
 Miflead our ftep ; till giddy, fpent, and foil'd, 45^ 
 We reach the point where firft our race began. 
 
 Thefe Fancy priz'd erroneous, v/hat time Tafle, 
 An infant yet, firft joln'd her to deftroy 
 The meafur'd platform ; into falfe extremes 
 What marvel if they flray'd, as yet unlkill'd 50 
 To mark the form of that peculiar curve, 
 Alike averfe to crooked and to flraight, , 
 Where fweet Simplicity refides ; which Grace 
 And Beauty caH their own ; whofe lambent flow 
 Charms us at. once with fymmetry and eafe. 55 
 J Tis Nature's curve, inftintively fhe bids 
 Her tribes of Being- trace it. Down the dope 
 Of yon wide field, fee, with its gradual fweep, 
 The ploughing fleers their fallow ridges fwell 
 The peafant, driving thro' each fhadowy lane 6~o. 
 His team, that bends beneath th' incumbent weight 
 Of laughing CERES, marks it with his wheel ; 
 At night, and morn, the milkmaid's carelefs flep 
 Da Has > .
 
 ( 32 > 
 
 Has, thro' yon pafture green, from (tile to flile, 
 Imprefl a kindred curve ; the fcuddlng hare 65 
 Draws to her dew-fprent feat, o'er thymy heaths, 
 A path as gently waving ; mark them well ; 
 Compare, pronounce, that, varying but in fize, 
 Their forms are kindred all ; go then, convinc'd 
 That Art's unerring rule is only drawn 70 
 
 From Nature's facred fource ; a rule that guides 
 Her ev'ry toil ; or, if ihe fhape the path, 
 Or fcoop the lawn, or, gradual, lift thejiill. 
 For not alone to that embellifh'd walk, 
 Which leads to ev'ry beauty of the fcene, 75 
 
 It yields a grace, but fpreads its influence wide, 
 Prefcribes each form of thicket, copfe, or wood, 
 Confines the rivulet, and fpreads the lake. 
 
 Yet fhall this graceful line forget to pleafe, 
 If border'd clofe by fidelong parallels, 80 
 
 Nor duly mixt with thole oppofing curves 
 That give the charm of contraft. Vainly Taftc 
 Draws thro' the grove her path in eafiefl bend, 
 If, on the margin of its woody fides, 
 The meafur'd greenfward waves in kindred 
 flow : 85 
 
 Oft let the turf recede, and oft approach, 
 With varied breadth, now link into the fhade, 
 
 Now
 
 ( 33 ) 
 
 Now to the fun Its verdant bofom bare. 
 
 As vainly wilt thou lift the gradual hill 
 
 To meet thy right-hand view, if to the left 90 
 
 An equal hill afcends : in this, and all 
 
 Be various, wild, and free as Nature's felf. 
 
 For in her wildnefs is there oft an art, 
 Or feeming art, which, by pofition apt, 
 Arranges fhapes unequal, fo to fave 95 
 
 That correfpondent poize, which unprcferv'd 
 Would mock our gaze with airy vacancy. 
 Yet fair Variety with all her powers, 
 Affifts the Balance ; 'gainft the barren crag' 
 She lifts the paftur'd flope ; to diftant hills 100 
 Oppofes neighb'ring fiiades ; and, central oft, 
 Relieves the fiatnefs of the lawn, or lake, 
 With (ludded tuft, or illand. So to poize 
 Her objects, mimic Art may oft attain : 
 She rules the foreground; {he can fwell or 
 fink 105 
 
 Its furface ; here her leafy fcreen oppofe, 
 And there withdraw ; here part the varying greens, 
 And there in one promifcuous gloom combine 
 As bcft befits the Genius of the fcene.
 
 C 34 ; 
 
 Him then, that fov'reign Genius, Monarch 
 fole no 
 
 Who, from creation's primal day, derives 
 His right divine to this his rural throne, 
 Approach with meet obeifance j at his feet 
 Let our aw'd art fall proftrate. They of Ind, 
 The Tartar tyrants, Tamerlane's proud race, 1 1/5 
 Or they in Perfia thron'd, who fhake the rod 
 Of power o'er myriads of enervate flaves, 
 Expect not humbler homage to their pride 
 Than does this fylvan Defpot *. Yet to thofe 
 Who do him loyal. fervice, who revere 120. 
 
 His dignity, nor aim, with rebel arms,, 
 At lawlefs ufurpation, is he found 
 Patient and placable, receives well pleas'd 
 Their tributary treafures, nor difdains 
 To blend them with his own internal flore. 125, 
 
 Stands he in blank anddefolated ftate, 
 Where yawning crags disjointed, fharp, uncouth, . 
 Involve him with pale horror ? In- the clefts, 
 Thy welcome fpade fhall heap that foft'ring mould - 
 Whence fapling oaks may fpring.; whence cluft- 
 'ring crouds ijo 
 
 Of early underwood (hall veil their fides, 
 
 And: 
 * Yer. 119, Note XIII.
 
 ( 35 ) 
 
 And teach their rugged heads above the fhade 
 To tower in fhapes romantic : Nor, around 
 Their flinty roots, fhall ivy fpare to hang 
 Its gadding tendrils, nor the mofs-grown turf, 135 
 With wild thyme fprinkled, there refufe to fpread 
 Its verdure. Awful {till, yet not auftere, 
 The Genius ftands J bold is his port, and wifdj 
 But not forlorn, nor favage, On feme plain 
 Of tedious length, fay, are his flat limbi 
 laid ? 140 
 
 Thy hand (hall lift him from the dreary couch, 
 Pillowing his head with fwclling hillocks green, 
 While, all around, a forcft-curtain fprcads 
 Its waving folds, and blefles his repofe. 
 What, if perchance in fome prolific foil, 145. 
 Where Vegetation ftrenuous, uncontroll'd, 
 Has pufh'd her pow'rs luxuriant, he now pines 
 For air and freedom ? Soon thy fturdy axe, 
 Amid its intertwifted foliage driv'n, 
 Shall open all his glades, and ingrefs give 150 
 
 To the bright darts of day ; his prifon'd rills, 
 That darkling crept amid the milling brakes, 
 Shall glitter as they glide, and his dank caves, 
 Free to falubrious Zephyrs, ceafe to weep. 
 Meanwhile his ftiadowy pomp he ftill retains, 155 
 His Dryads (till attend him ; they alone 
 
 Of
 
 ( 36 ) 
 
 Of race plebeian banifti'd, who to croud 
 
 Not grace his flate, their boughs obtrufive flung. 
 
 But chief confult him ere thou dar'ft decide 
 "TV appropriate bounds of Pleafure, and of 
 
 Ufej i So 
 
 For Pleafure, lawlefs robber, oft invades 
 Her neighbour's right, and turns to idle wafte 
 Her treafures : curb her then in fcanty bounds, 
 Whene'er the fcene permits that juft reftraint. 
 The curb retrains not Beauty ; fov'reign flic 165 
 Still triumph^, ftill unites each fubjet realm, 
 And blefles both impartial. Why then fear 
 Left, if thy fence contract the fhaven- lawir> 
 It does Her wrong ? She points a thoufand ways, 
 And each her own, to cure the needful ill. 1 70 
 Where'er it winds, and freely muft it wind, 
 She bids, at ev'ry bend, thick-blofTom'd tufts 
 Croud their inwoven tendrils : is there (till 
 A void ? Lo, Lebanon her Cedar lends t 
 Lo, all the {lately progeny of Pines 175 
 
 Come, with their floating foliage richly deck'd, 
 To fill that void ! meanwhile acrofs the mead 
 The wand'ring flocks that browfe between the 
 
 (hade*
 
 (-37 ) 
 
 Seem oft to pafs their bounds ; the dubious eye 
 Decides not if they crop the mead or lawn. 180 
 
 Browfe then your fill, fond Foreflers ! to you 
 Shall flurdy Labour quit his morning tafk 
 Well pleas'd ; nor longer o'er his ufelefs plots 
 Draw through the dew the fplendor of his 
 
 fcythe. 
 
 He, leaning on that fcythe, with carols gay 185 
 Salutes his fleecy fubftitutes, that rufh 
 In bleating chace to their delicious tafk, 
 And, fpreading o'er the plain, with eager teeth 
 Devour it into verdure. Browfe your fill, 
 Fond Foreflers ! the foil that you enrich 190 
 
 Shall ftill fupply your morn and even'ng meal 
 \Vith choicefl delicates ; whether you choofe 
 The vernal blades, that rife with feeded ftem 
 Of hue purpureal ; or the clover white, 
 That in a fpiked ball collects its fweet ; 195 
 
 Or trembling fefcuz : ev'ry fav'rite herb 
 Shall court your tafle, ye harmlefs epicures ! 
 Meanwhile permit that with unheeded ftep 
 I pafs befide you, nor let idle fear 
 Spoil your repaft, for know the lively fcene, 206 
 That you dill more enliven, to my foul 
 Darts infpiration, and impels the fong 
 
 To
 
 ( 38 ) 
 
 To roll in bolder defcant ; while, within, 
 
 A gleam of happinefs primaeval feems 
 
 To fnatch me back to joys my nature claira'd, 205 
 
 Ere vice defil'd, ere flavery funk the world, 
 
 And all was faith and freedom : Then was man 
 
 Creation's king, yet friend ; and all that browfe, 
 
 Or fkim, or dive, the plain, the air, the flood, 
 
 Paid him their liberal homage ; paid unaw'd 2iO 
 
 In love accepted, fympathetic love 
 
 That felt for all, and bleft them with its fmiles. 
 
 Then, nor the curling horn had learn'd to found 
 
 The favage fong of chace ; the barbed fliaft 
 
 Had then no poifon'd point ; nor thou, fell 
 
 tube ! 215 
 
 Whofe iron entrails hide the fulphurous blaft, 
 Satanic engine, knew'ft the ruthlefs power 
 Of thundering death around thee. Then alike 
 Were ye innocuous thro' your ev'ry tribe, 
 Or brute, or reptile ; nor by rage or guile 220 
 Had giv'n to injur'd man his only plea 
 (And that the tyrant's plea *) to work -your 
 
 harm. 
 
 Inftinct, alas, like wayward Reafon, now 
 Veers from its pole. There was a golden time 
 When each created being kept its fphere 225 
 
 Appointed, 
 
 * Yer. aw, Not* XIV,
 
 ( 39 ) 
 
 Appointed, nor infring'd its neighbour's right. 
 The flocks, to whom the grafly lawn was giv'n, 
 Fed on its blades contented ; now they crufh 
 Each fcion's tender (hoots, and, at its birth, 
 Deflroy, what, fav'd from their remorfelefs 
 tooth, 250 
 
 Had been the tree of Jove. Ev'n while I fing, 
 Yon wanton lamb has cropt the woodbine's pride, 
 That bent beneath a full-blown load of fweets, 
 And fill'd the air with perfume ; fee it falls ; 
 The bufy bees, with many a murmur fad, 255 
 Hang o'er their honied lofs. Why is it thus ? 
 Ah, why muft Art defend the friendly ftiades 
 She rear'd to fliield you from the noontide beam ? 
 Traitors, forbear to wound them ! fay, ye fools I 
 Does your rich herbage fail ? do acrid leaves 246 
 Afford you daintier food ? I plead in vain ; 
 For now the father of the fleecy troop 
 Begins his devaftation, and his e^ves 
 Croud to the fpoil, with imitative zeal. 
 
 Since then, conftrain'd, we mufl expel the 
 flock 245 
 
 From where our faplings rife, our flow'rets bloom, 
 The fong fhall teach, .in clear preceptive notes, 
 How beft to frame the Fence, and befl to hide 
 
 E All
 
 ( 40 ) 
 
 All Its forefeen defects ; defective ftill, 
 
 Tho' hid with happieft art. Ingrateful fure 250 
 
 When fuch the theme, becomes the Poet's tafk : 
 
 Yet muft he try, by modulation meet 
 
 Of varied cadence, andfelectcd phrafe, 
 
 Exacfc yet free, without inflation bold, 
 
 To dignify that theme, muft try to form 255 
 
 Such magic fympathy of fenfe with found 
 
 As pictures all it fings ; while Grace awakes 
 
 At each bleft touch, and, on the lowlieft things, 
 
 Scatters her rainbow hues. The firft and beft 
 
 Is that, which, finking from our eye, divides, 260 
 
 Yet ferms not to divide the ftiaven lawn, 
 
 And parts it from the pafture ; for if there 
 
 Sheep feed, or dappled dser, their wandering 
 
 teeth 
 
 Will, fmoothly as the fc) the, the herbage fliave, 
 And leave a kindred verdure. This to keep 265 
 Heed that thy labourer fcoop the trench with 
 
 care ; 
 
 For fome there are who give their fpade rerofe, 
 When broad enough the perpendicular fides 
 Divide, and deep defcend : To form perchance 
 Some needful drain, fuch labour may iuffice, 270 
 Yet not for beauty : here thy ranje of wall 
 Muft lift its height ere<5r, and, o';r Its head 
 
 A verdant
 
 ( 4' ) 
 
 A verdant veil of fwclling turf expand, 
 While fmoothly from its bafe with gradual eafc 
 The pafture meets its level, at that point 275 
 
 Which bed deludes our eye, and belt conceals 
 Thy lawn's brief limit. Down fo fmooth a fiope 
 The fleecy foragers will gladly browfe j 
 The velvet herbage free from weeds obfcene 
 Shall fpread its equal carpet, and the trench 280 
 Be pafturcto its bafe. Thus form thy fence 
 Of ftone, for ftone alone, and pil'd on high, 
 Bed curbs the nimble deer, that love to rai?ge 
 Unlimited ; but where tame heifers feed, 
 Or innocent Ihccp, an humbler mound will 
 
 ferve 285 
 
 Unlin'd with ftone, and but a green-fwerd trench. 
 Here mid-.vay down, upon the nearer bank 
 Plant thy thick ro;v of thorns, and, to defend 
 Their infant (hoots, beneath, on oaken (lakes, 
 Extend a rail oT elm, fecurely arm'd 290 
 
 With fpiculated pailing, in fuch fort 
 A*, round fome citadel, the engineer 
 Direls his fharp fioccade. But when the (hoots 
 Cond:nfe, and mt:rweave their prickly boughs 
 Impenetrable, then withdraw their guard, 295 
 They've done their office j fcorn thou to re- 
 
 ta'n, 
 
 E 2 What
 
 ( 42 ) 
 
 What frowns like military art, in fcenes, 
 
 Where Peace fhould fmile perpetual. Thefe def- 
 
 troy'd, 
 
 Make it thy vernal care, when April calls 
 New fhoots to birth, to trim the hedge aflaunt, 300 
 And mould it to the roundnefs of the mound, 
 Itfelf a flielving hill ; nor need we here 
 The rule or line precife, a cafual glance 
 Suffices to direct the carelcfs fheers. 
 
 Yet learn, that each variety of ground 305 
 
 Claims its peculiar barrier. When the fofs 
 Can (leal tranfverfc before the central eye, 
 7 Tis duly drawn ; but, up yon neighb'ring hill 
 That fronts the lawn direct, if labour delve 
 The yawning chafni, 'twill meet, not crofs our 
 view; 310 
 
 No foliage can conceal, no curve correct 
 The deep deformity. And yet thcu mcan'ft 
 Up yonder hill to wind thy fragrant way, 
 And wifely doft thou -mean ; for its broad eye 
 Catches the fudden charms of laughing vales, 315 
 Rude rocks and headlong ftreams, and antique oaks 
 Loft in a wild horizon j yet the path 
 That leads to all thefe charms expe&s defence : 
 Here then fufpend the fportman's hempen toils, 
 
 And
 
 ( 43 ) 
 
 And ftretch their mefhes on the light fupport 320 
 
 Of hazel plants, or draw thy lines of wire 
 
 In fivefold parallel ; no danger then 
 
 That fheep invade thy foliage. To thy herds, 
 
 And paftur'd deeds an opener fence oppofe, 
 
 Form'd by a triple ro*v of cordage ftrong, 325 
 
 Tight drawn the ftakes between. The fimple 
 
 deer 
 
 Is curb'd by mimic fnares ; the flendereft twine* 
 (If Sages err not) that the Beldame fpins 
 When by her wintry lamp me plies her wheel, 
 Arrefts his courage ; his impetuous hoof, 330 
 
 Broad cheft and branching antlers nought avail ; 
 In fearful gaze he (lands ; the nerves that bore 
 His bounding pride o'er lofty mounds of ftone, 
 A finale thread defies. Suc'i force has Fear, 
 When vifionary Fancy wakes the fiend, 335 
 
 In brute or man, moft powerful when moft vain. 
 
 Still mud the Swain, who fpreads thefe corded 
 
 guards, 
 
 Expea their fwiit decay. Tire noontide beams 
 Relax, the nightly dews contract the twift. 
 Oft too the coward hare, then only bold 540 
 
 When mifchief prompts, or wintry famine pines,, 
 E 3 Will 
 
 * Ver. 327, Nt e XV.
 
 C 44 ) 
 
 Will quit her ruih-grown form, and fteal, with 
 
 ear 
 
 Up-prick'd, to gnaw the toils ; and oft the ram 
 And jutting fteer drive their entangling horns 
 Thro' the frail mefhes, and, by many a chafm, 545 
 Proclaim their hate of thraldom. Nothing brooks 
 Confinement, fave degenerate Man alone, 
 Who deems a monarch's fmile can gild his chains. 
 Tir'd then, perchance, of nets that daily claim 
 Thy renovating labour, thou wilt form, 35 
 
 With elm and oak, a ruftic baluftrade 
 Of firmeft juncture ; happy could thy toil 
 Make it as fair as firm ; yet vain the wifh, 
 Aim but to hide, not grace its formal line. 
 
 Let thofe, who weekly, from the city's 
 fmoke 355 
 
 Croud to each neighb'ring hamlet, there to hold 
 Their duly Sabbath, tip with gold and red 
 The milk-white palifades, that Gothic now, , 
 And now Chinefe, now neither, and yet both, 
 Chequer their trim domain. Thyfylvanfccne 360 
 Would fade, indignant at the tawdry glare. 
 
 'This thine alone to feek what ftiadowy hues 
 Tinging thy fence may lofe it in the lawn j 
 
 An:
 
 
 ( 45 ) 
 
 I And thefe to give thee Painting muft defcend 
 
 Ev'n to her meanefl office ; grind, compound, 365 
 I Compare, and by the diflanced eye decide. 
 
 For this fhe firft, with fnowy cerufe, joins 
 The ochr'ous atoms that chalybeate rills 
 Wafti from their mineral channels, as they glide, 
 In flakes of earthy gold ; with thefe unites 370 
 A tinge of blue, or that deep azure gray, 
 Form'd from the calcin'd fibres of the vine ; 
 And, if fhe blends, with fparing hand (he blends 
 That bafe metallic drug then only priz'd, 
 When, aided by the humid touch of Time, 375 
 It gives a Nero's or fome tyrant's check, 
 Its precious canker. Thefe with fluent oil 
 Attemper'd, on thy length'ning rail fhall fpread 
 That fober olive-green which Nature wears 
 Ev'n on h?r vernal bofom : nor mifdeem, 380 
 For that, illumin'd with the noontide ray, 
 She boafts a brighter garment, therefore Art 
 A livelier verdure to thy aid fiiould bring. 
 Know when that Art, with ev'ry varied hue, 
 Portrays the. living landfcape ; when her hand 385 
 Commands the canvafs plane to'glide with ftrearn?, 
 To wave with foliage, or with flowers to breathe, 
 
 Cool
 
 ( 46 ) 
 
 Cool olive tints, in foft gradation laid, 
 Create the general herbage : there alone, 
 Where darts, with vivid force, the ray fu- 
 preme, 390 
 
 Unfullied verdure reigns ; and tells our eye 
 It ftole its bright refleftion from the fun. 
 
 The paint is fpread ; the barrier pales retire, 
 Snatch'd, as by magic, from the gazer's view. 
 So, when the fable enfign of the night, 395 
 
 Unfurl'd by mift-impelling Eurus, veils 
 The lafl red radiance of declining day, 
 Each fcatter'd village, and each holy fpire 
 That deck'd the diftance of the fylvan fcene, 
 Are funk in fudden gloom: The plodding 
 hind, 400 
 
 That homeward hies, kens not the cheering fite 
 Of his calm cabbin, which, a moment pad, 
 Stream'd from its roof an azure curl of fmoke, 
 Beneath the (heltering coppice, and gave fign 
 Of warm domedic welcome from his toil. 405 
 
 Nor is that Cot, of which fond Fancy draws 
 This cafual picture*, alien from our theme. 
 Revifit it at morn ; its opcninj latch, 
 
 Tho'
 
 ( 47 ) 
 
 Tho' Penury and Toil within refidc, 
 Shall pour thee forth a youthful progeny 410 
 Glowing with health and beauty : (fuch the dower 
 Of equal heav'n) fee, how the ruddy tribe 
 Throng round the threfhold, and, with vacant 
 
 gaze, 
 
 Salute thee ; call the loiterers into ufe, 
 And form of thefe thy fence, the living fence 415 
 That graces what it guards. Thou think'ft per- 
 chance, 
 
 That, fldll'd in Nature's heraldry, thy art 
 Ha?, in the limits of yon fragrant tuft, 
 Marfiiall'd each rofe, that to the eye of June 
 Spreads its peculiar crimfon ; do not err, 420 
 The lovelieft ftill is wanting ; the frefh rofe 
 Of Innocence, it bloffoms on their cheek, 
 And, lo, to thee they bear it ! driving all, 
 In panting race, who firft fliall reach the lawn, 
 Proud to be call'd thy (hepherdj. Want, 
 alas ! ' 425 
 
 Has o'er their little limbs her livery hung;, 
 In many a tatter'd fold, yet flill thofe limbs 
 Are fhapely ; their rude locks ftart from their brow, 
 Yet, on that open brow, its deareft throne, 
 Sits fweet Simplicity. Ah, clothe the troop 430 
 In fuch a ruflet garb as belt befits 
 
 Their
 
 ( 48 ) 
 
 Their paftoral office ; let the leathern fcrlp 
 Swing at their fide, tip thou their crook with 
 
 fteel, 
 
 And braid their hats with rufties, then to each 
 Aflign his ftation ; at the clofe of eve, 455 
 
 Be it their care to pen in hurdled cote 
 The flock, and when the matin prime returns, 
 Their care to fet them free ; yet watching ftill 
 The liberty they lend, oftflialt thou hear 
 Their whittle fhrill, and oft their faithful dog 440 
 Shall with obedient barkings fright the flock 
 From wrong or robbery. The livelong day 
 Meantime rolls lightly o'er their happy heads ; 
 They baflc on funny hillocks or defport 
 In ruflic paftime, while the lovelieft grace, 445 
 Which only lives in acYion unreflrain'd, 
 To ev'ry fimple gefture lends a charm. 
 
 Pride of the year, purpureal Spring ! attend, 
 And, in the cheek of thefe fweet innocents 
 Behold your beauties pi&ur'd. As the cloud 450 
 That weeps its moment from thy fapphire heav'n, 
 They frown with caufelefs forrow ; as the beam, 
 Gilding that cloud, with caufelefs mirth they 
 
 fmile. 
 
 Stay, pitying Time ! prolong their vernal blifs. 
 
 Alas I
 
 ( 49 ) 
 
 Alas ! ere we can note it in our fong, 455 
 
 Comes manhood Yfeverifh fummer, chill'd full foon 
 By cold autumnal care, till wintry age 
 Sinks in the frore feverity of death. 
 
 Ah ! who, when fuch life's momentary dream, 
 Would mix in hireling fenates, ftrenuous there 460 
 To crufh the venal Hydra, whofe fell crefts 
 Rife, with recruited venom from the wound ! 
 Who, for fo vain a conflict, would forego 
 Thy fylvan haunt, celeftial Solitude ! 
 Where felf-improvement, crown'd with felf-con- 
 tent, 465 
 
 Await to blefs thy votary ? Nurtur'd thus 
 In tranquil groves, lift'ning to Nature's voice, 
 That preach'dfrom whifpering trees, and babbling 
 
 brooks, 
 
 A leffon feldom learnt in Reafon's fchool, 
 The wife Sidonian liv'd* : and, tho' the pert 470 
 Of lawlefs tyranny around him rag'd; 
 Tho' Strato, great alone in Perfia's gold, 
 UncalPd, unhallow'd by the people's choice, 
 Uiurp'd the throne of his brave anceflors, 
 Yet was his foul all peace ; a garden's care 475 
 His only thought, its charms his only pride. 
 
 But 
 * Ver. 4-70, Note XVI.
 
 ( 50 ) 
 
 ut now the conquering arms of Macedon 
 Had humbled Perfia. Now Ph^nicia-'s realm 
 Receives the Son of Ammon ; at whofe frown 
 Her tributary kings or quit their thrones, 480 
 Or at his fmile retain j and Sidon, now 
 Freed from her tyrant, points the Victor's ftep 
 To where her rightful Sov'reign, doubly dear 
 By birth and virtue, prun'd his garden grove. 
 
 'Twas at that early hour, when now the fun 485 
 Behind majeftic Lebanon's dark veil 
 Hid his afcending fplendor j yet thro' each 
 Her cedar-vefted fides, his flaunting beams 
 Shot to the ftrand, and purpled all the main, 
 'Where Commerce faw her Sidon's freighted 
 wealth, 490 
 
 With languid dreamer?, and with folded fails, 
 Float in a lake of gold. The wind was hufh'd ; 
 And, to the beach, each flowly-lifted wave, 
 Creeping with filver curl, jud kift the fhore, 
 And flept in (ilence. At this tranquil hour 495 
 Did Sidon's fenate, and the Grecian hoft, 
 Led by the conqueror of the world, approach 
 The fecrct glade that veil'd the man of toil. 
 
 Now
 
 
 Now near the mountain's foot the chief arriv'd 
 Where, round that glade, a pointed aloe fcreen, 500 
 Entwin'd with myrtle, met in tangled brakes, 
 That bar'd all entrance, fave at one low gate, 
 Whofe time-disjointed arch with ivy chain'd, 
 Bade (loop the warrior train. A pathway brown 
 Led thro' the pafs, meeting a fretful brcok, 505 
 And wandering near its channel, while it leapt 
 O'er many a rocky fragment, whert rude Art 
 Had eas'd perchance, but not prefcrib'd its way. 
 
 Clofe was the vale and fhady ; yet ere long 
 Its foreft fides retiring, left a lawn 510 
 
 Of ample circuit, where the widening ftrcam 
 Now o'er its pebbled channel nimbly tript 
 In many a lucid maze. From the flower'd verge 
 Of this clear ril! now ftray'd the devious path, 
 Amid ambrofial tufts where fpicy plants, 515 
 
 Weeping their perfum'd tears of myrrh, and nard, 
 Stood crown'd with Sharon's rofe ; or where, 
 
 apart. 
 
 The patriarch Palm his load of fugar'd dates 
 S'.ower'd plenteous ; where the Fig, of ftandard 
 
 ftrength, 
 
 And rich Pomegranate, wrart in dulcet pulp 520 
 Their rac/ feeds ; or where the citron's bough 
 
 F Bent
 
 ( 52 ) 
 
 Bent with its load of golden fruit mature. 
 Meanwhile the lawn beneath the fcatter'd ftiade 
 Spread its fcrene extent ; a (lately file 
 Of circling Cyprefs mark'd the diftant bound. 525 
 
 Now, to the left, the path afcending pierc'd 
 A fmaller fylvan theatre, yet deck'd 
 With more majeftic foliage. Cedars here, 
 Coeval with the fky-crown'd mountain's felt, 
 Spread wide their giant arms ; whence, from a 
 
 rock 530 
 
 Craggy and black, that feem'd its fountain head, 
 The ftream fell headlong ; ytt ftill higher rofe, 
 Ev'n in th' eternal fnows of Lebanon, 
 That hallow'd fpring ; thence, in the porous ea th 
 Long while ingulph'd, its cryftal weight here 
 
 forc'd 535 
 
 Its way to light and freedom. Down it dafiYd ; 
 A bed of native marble pure receiv'd 
 The new-born Naiad, and repos'd her wave, 
 Till with o'er-flowing pride it fkim'd the lawn. 
 
 Fronting this lake there rofe a folen-n grot, 540 
 O'er which an ancient vine luxuriant flung 
 Its pu-ple clufttrs, and beneath its roof 
 An unhewn altar. Rich Sabscriii gums 
 
 Thai
 
 ( 53 ) 
 
 That altar pil'd, and there with torch of pine 
 The venerable Sage, now firft defcry'd 545 
 
 The fragrant incenfe kindled. Age had ftied 
 That dull of diver o'er his fable locks, 
 Which fpoke his flrength mature beyond its prime, 
 Yet vigorous ftill, for from his healthy check 
 Time had not cropt a rofe, or on his brow 550 
 One wrinkling furrow plow'd: his eagle eye 
 Had all its youthful lightning, and each limb 
 The finewy ilrength that toil demands, and 
 
 The warrior faw and paus'd : his nod withheld 
 The crowd at awful diftance, where their ears, 
 In mute attention, drank the Sage's prayer. 556 
 " Parent of Good (he cried' behold the gifts 
 " Thy humble votary brings, .and may thy fmile 
 " Hallow his cuftom'd offering. Let the hand 
 " That deals in blood, with blood thy (brines dif- 
 
 " tain ; 560 
 
 " Be mine this harmlefs tribute. If it fpeaks 
 " A grateful heart, can hecatombs do more ? 
 " Parent of Good ! they cannot. Purple Pomp 
 " May call thy prefence to a prouder fane 
 "Than this poor cave; but will thy prefence 
 
 " there 565 
 
 " Bs more devoutly felt ? Parent of Good ! 
 
 Fa it
 
 ( 54 ) 
 
 " It will not. Here then, fhall the proilratc heart, 
 
 " That deeply feels thy prefence, lift its pray'r. 
 
 " But what has he to afk who nothing needs, 
 
 " Save, what unafk'd, is, from thy heav'n of heav'ns 
 
 <l Giv'n in diurnal good ? Yet, holy Power ! 571 
 
 " Do all that call thee Father thus exult 
 
 " In thy propitious prefence ? Sidon finks 
 
 " Beneath a tyrant's fcourge. Parent of Good \ 
 
 *' Oh free my captive country." -Sudden here 575 
 
 He paus'd and figh'd. And now, the raptur'd crowd 
 
 Murmur'd applaufe : he heard, he turn'd and faw 
 
 The King of Macedon with eager ftep 
 
 Burft from his warrior phalanx. From the youth, 
 
 Who bore its ftate, the conqueror's own right 
 
 hand 580 
 
 Snatch'd the rich wreath, and bound it on his brow. 
 His fwift attendants o'er his fhoulders caft 
 The robe of empire, while the trumpet's voice 
 Proclaim'd him King of Sidon. Stern he flood, 
 Or, if he fmil'd, 'twas a contemptuous fmile, 585 
 That held the pageant honours in difdain. 
 Then burft the people's voice, in loud acclaim, 
 And bade him be their Father. At the word, 
 The honour'd blood, that warm'd him, flulh'd his 
 
 cheek ; 
 
 His brow expanded > his exalted ftep 590 
 
 March'd
 
 ( 55 ) 
 
 iarch'd firmer ; gracioufly he bow'd the head, 
 Vnd was the Sire they call'd him, " Tell me., 
 
 "King," 
 ng Ammon cried, while o'er his bright'ning 
 
 form 
 
 le caft the gaze of wonder, " how a foul 
 "' Like thine could bear the toils of Penury ?" 595 
 " Oh grant me, Gods !" he anfwer'd, " fo to bear 
 " This load of Royalty. My toil was crown'd 
 f f With bleflings loft to Kings j yet, righteous 
 
 " Power ! 
 
 " If to my country ye transfer the boon, 
 " I triumph in the lofs. Be mine the chains 6bo 
 " That fetter Sov'reignty ; let Sidon fmile 
 " With, your bed bleffings, Liberty and Peace.", 
 
 OF THE SECOND COOK. 
 
 THE
 
 THE 
 
 ENGLISH GARDEN, 
 
 BOOK THE THIRD.
 
 T H E 
 
 ENGLISH GARDEN. 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 L<LOS'D is that curious ear, by Death's cold hand, 
 That mark'd each error of my carelefs drain 
 With kind feverity ; to whom my Mufe 
 Still lov'd to whifper, what fne meant to 6113 
 In louder accent ; to whofe tafte fupreme 5 
 
 She firft and laft appeal'd, nor wifh'd for praife, 
 Save when his fmile was herald to her fame. 
 Yes, thou art gone ; yet Friendfhip's fault'ring 
 
 tongue 
 
 Invokes thee ftill ; and ftill, by Fancy footh'd, 
 Fain would ihe hope her GRAY attends the call. 10 
 Why then, alas ! in this my fav'rite haunt, 
 Place I the Urn, the Buft, the fculptur'd Lyre, * 
 Or fix this votive tablet, fair infcrib'd 
 
 With 
 * Yer. 12, Note XVII.
 
 With numbers worthy thec, for they are thine ? 
 Why, if thou hear'ft me ftill, thefe fymbols fad 15 
 Of fond memorial ? Ah ! my penfive foul ! 
 He hears me not, nor evermore {hall hear 
 The theme his candour, not his tafte approv'd- 
 
 Olt, ' fmiling as in fcorn.,' oft would he cry, 
 " Why wafte thy numbers on a trivial art, 20 
 " That ill can mimic even the humbleft charms 
 " Of all majeftic Nature ?" at the word 
 His eye would gliften, and his accents glow 
 With all the Poet's frenzy, " Sov'reign Queen ! 
 " Behold, and tremble, while thou view'il her 
 ftate 25 
 
 " Thron'd on the heights of Skiddaw : call thy art 
 " To build her fuch a throne ; that art will feel 
 t( How vain her beft pretenfions. Trace her march 
 " Amid the purple crags of Borrowdnle ; 
 " And try like thofe to pile thy range of rock 30 
 " In rude tumultuous chaos. See ! fhe mounts 
 " Her Naiad car, and, down Lodore's dread cliff 
 " Falls many a fathom, like the headlong Bard 
 " My fabling fancy plung'd in Conway's flood ; 
 " Yet not like him to (ink in endlefs night : ^5 
 *' For, on its boiling bofom, ftill ihe guides 
 c< - Her buoyant (hell, and, leads the wave along ; 
 
 " Or
 
 (< Or fpreads it broad, a river, or a lake, 
 " As fuits her pleafure ; Avill thy boldeft fong 
 t( E'er brace the finews of enervate art 40 
 
 *' To fuch dread daring ? will it ev'n direct 
 " Her hand to emulate thofe fofter charms 
 *' That deck the banks of Dove, or call to birth 
 <t The bare romantic craggs, and copfes green, 
 (( That fidelong grace her circuit, whence the 
 
 rills, 45 
 
 te Bright in their cryfta-I purity, defcend 
 *' To meet their fparkling Queen ? around each 
 
 fount 
 *' The haw-thorns croud and knit their bloflbm'd 
 
 " fprays 
 
 ** To keep their fources facred. Here, even here, 
 ** Thy art, each a&ive finew ftretch'd in vain, 50 
 " Would periih in its pride. Far rather thou 
 <f Confefs her fcanty power, corred, controul, 
 *' Tell her how far, nor faithe : ", ftie may go; 
 <f And rein with Reafon's curb fantaftic Tafte." 
 
 Yes I will hear thee, dear lamented Shade, 55 
 And hold each dictate facred. What remains 
 Unfung (hall fo each leading rule felecl 
 As if ftill guid:d by thy judgment fage ; 
 While, as ftill modcll'd to thy curious ear, 
 
 F'o T .v
 
 C 62 ) 
 
 Flow my melodious numbers ; fo fnali praife, 60 
 If aught of praiie the verfe I weave may claim, 
 From juft Pofterity reward my fong. 
 
 Erewhile to trace the path, to form the fence, 
 To mark the deftin'd limits of the lawn, 
 The Mufe, with meafur'd flep, preceptive, pac'd. 65 
 Now from the furface with impatient flight 
 She mounts, Sylvanus ! o'er thy world of fhadc 
 To fpread her pinions. Open all thy glades, 
 Greet her from all thy echoes. Orpheus-like, 
 Arm'd with the fpells of harmony (he comes, 70 
 To lead thy forefts forth to lovelier haunts, 
 Where Fancy waits to fix them ; from the dell 
 Where now they lurk (he calls them to poflefs 
 Con r picuous ftations ; to their varied forms 
 Allots congenial place ; fele&s, divides, 75 
 
 And blends anew in one Elyfian fcsne. 
 
 Yet while I thus exult, my weak tongue feels 
 Its ineffectual powers, and fecks in vain 
 That force of antientphrafe which, freaking, paints, 
 And is the thing it fings. Ah Virgi! ! why, 80 
 By thee neglctted, was this lovelitfl theme 
 Left to the grating voice of modern reed ? 
 Why not array it in the fplcndid robe 
 
 Of
 
 Of thy rich diction, and confign the charge 
 
 To Fame thy hand-maid, whofe immortal plume 85 
 
 Had borne its praife beyond the bounds of Time ? 
 
 Countlefs is Vegetation's verdant brood 
 As are the ftars that ftud yon cope of heaven ; 
 To marfhal all her tribes, in order'd file 
 Generic, or fpecific, might demand 90 
 
 His fcience, wond'rous Swede ! whofe ample mind 
 Like antient Tadmor's philofophic king, 
 Stretch'd from the Hyffop creeping on the wall 
 To Lebanon's proudeft cedars. Skill like this, 
 Which fpans a third of Nature's copious realm, 95 
 Our art requires not, fedulous alone 
 To note thofe general properties of form, 
 DimcnfiOn, growth, duration, ftrength, and hue, 
 Then firft imp 'eft, when, at the dawn of time, 
 The form-deciding, life-infpiring Word 100 
 
 Pronounc'd them into being. Thefe prime marks 
 DiftinSlive, docile Memory makes her own, 
 That each its fhadowy fuccour may fupply 
 To her wiih'd purpofe ; firft, with needful fliade, 
 To veil whate'er of wall, or fence uncouth 105 
 Difgufts the eye, which tyrant Ufe has rear'd, 
 And ftern Nsccffity forbids to change. 
 
 G Lur'd
 
 Lur'd by their hafty fhoots, and branching ftems, 
 Planters there are who chufe the race of Pine 
 For this great end, erroneous ; witlefs they 1 10 
 That, as their arrowy heads aflault the fky, 
 They leave their {hafts unfeather'd : rather thou 
 Select the fhrubs that, patient of the knife, 
 Will thank thee for the wound, the hardy Thorn, 
 Holly, or Box, Privet, or Pyracanth. 115 
 
 They, thickening from their bafe, with tenfold 
 
 {hade 
 Will foon replenifli all thy judgment prun'd. 
 
 But chief, with willing aid, her glittering green 
 Shall England's Laurel bring ; fwift {hall (he fpread 
 Her broad-leav'd fhade, and float it fair, and 
 wide, i 20 
 
 Proud to be call'd an Inmate of the foil. 
 Let England prize this daughter of the Eaft * 
 Beyond that Latian plant, of kindred name, 
 That wreathM the head of Julius ; bafely twin'd 
 Its flattering foliage on the traitor's brow 125 
 
 Who crufli'd his country's freedom. Sacred tree, 
 Ne'er be thy brighter verdure thus debas'd 1 
 Far happier thou, in this fequefter'd bower, 
 To fliroud thy Poet, who, with foiVring hand, 
 
 Here 
 * Ver. 1*3, Note XVIII.
 
 ( 65 ) 
 
 Here bade thee flourift, and with grateful drain 150 
 
 Now chaunts the praife of thy maturer blocm. 
 
 And happier far that Poet, if, fecure 
 
 His Hearth and Altars from the pilfering flaves 
 
 Of Power, his little eve of lonely life 
 
 May here (leal on, bleft with the heartfelt calm 135 
 
 That competence and liberty infpire. 
 
 Nor are the plants which England calls her own 
 Few, or unlovely, that, with laurel join'd, 
 And kindred foliage of perennial green, 
 Will form a clofe-knit curtain. Shrubs there are 1 40 
 Of bolder growth, that, at the call of Spring, 
 Burft forth in bloflbm'd fragrance : Lilacs rob'd 
 In fnow-white innocence, or purple pride ; 
 The fweet Syringa yielding but in fcent 
 To tke rich Orange ; or the Woodbine wild 145 
 That loves to hang, on barren boughs remote, 
 Her wreaths of flowery perfume. Thefe befide 
 Myriads, that here the Mufe negle&s to name, 
 Will add a vernal luilre to thy veil. 
 
 And what if chance collects the varied tribes, 150 
 Yet fear not thou but unexpected charms 
 Will from their union ftart. But if our fong 
 Supply one precept here, it bids retire 
 
 G 2 Each
 
 Each leaf of deeper dye, and 1 ft in front 
 
 Foliage of paler verdure, fo to fpread 155 
 
 A canvafs, which when touch'd by Autumn's hand 
 
 Shall gleam with dufky gold, or ruffet rays. 
 
 But why prepare for her funereal hand 
 
 That canvafs ? fhe but conies to drefs thy (hades, 
 
 As 'lovelier victims for their wintry tomb. i6c 
 
 Rather to flowery Spring, to Summer bright, 
 
 Thy labours confecrate ; their laughing reign, 
 
 The youth, the manhood of the growing year, 
 
 Deferves that labour, and rewards its pain. 
 
 Yet, heedful ever of that ruthlsfs time 165 
 
 When Winter (hakes their ftems, preferve a file 
 
 With everduring leaf to brave his arm, 
 
 And deepening fpread their undiminifh'd gloom. 
 
 But, if the tall defect demands a fcreen 
 Of foreft (hade high-tow'ring, feme broad roof 1 70 
 Perchance of glaring tile that guards the ftores 
 Of Ceres ; or the patch'd disjointed choir 
 Of fome old Fane, whofe fteeple's Gothic pride 
 Or pinnacled, or fpir'd, would bolder rife 
 ' In tufted trees high bofom'd,' here allot 175 
 Convenient fpace to plant that lofty tribe 
 Behind thy underwood, left, o'er its head 
 The foreft tyrants (hake their lordly arms, 
 
 And
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
 And fhed their baleful dews. Each plant that 
 
 fprings 
 
 Holds, like the people of fonie free-born flate, 180 
 Jts rights fair franchis'd > rooted to a fpot ' 
 *It yet has claim to air ; from liberal heav'n 
 It yet has claim to funfhine, and to fhowers : 
 Air, fhowers, and funlhine are its liberty. 
 
 That liberty fecur'd, a general (hade, 185 
 
 Denfe and impervious, to thy wifh fliall rife 
 To hide each form uncouth ; and, this obtain'd, 
 What next we from the Dryad powers implore 
 Is Grace, is Ornament : For fee ! our lawn, 
 Though cio.uh'd with fofteft verdure, though re- 
 
 h'ev'd 190 
 
 By many a gentle fall and eafy fwell, 
 Expects that harmony of light, and fhade, 
 Which foliage only gix-es. Come then, yc 
 
 phnts ! 
 
 That, like the village troop when Maia dawn?, 
 Delight to mingle focial ; to the crefl 195 
 
 Of yonder brow we fafely may conduct 
 Your numerous train ; no eye obftrucled there 
 Will blame your interpos'd fociety : 
 But, on the plain belo.v, in fingls ftems 
 Dlfnarted, or in fparing groups diftincl, 200 
 
 G 3 Wide
 
 Wide muft ye ftand, in wild, difo'der'd moxl, 
 As if the feeds from which your fcyons fprang 
 Had there been fcatter'd from the affrighted beak 
 Of feme maternal bird whom the fierce Hawk 
 Purfued with felon claw. Her young mean-, 
 while 205 
 
 Callow, and cold, from their mofs-woven nefl 
 Peep forth ; they ftretch their little eager throat* 
 Broad to the wind, and plead to the lone fpray 
 Their famifh'd plaint importunately fhrill. 
 
 Yet in this wild di.'brder Art prefides, 2IO 
 
 Defigns, corrects and regulates the whole, 
 Herfelf the while unfeen. No Cedar broad 
 Drops his dark curtain where a diftant fcene 
 Demands diftin&icn. Here the thin abele 
 Of lofty bole, and bare, the fmooth-ftem'd 
 beech, 215 
 
 Or (lender alder, give our eye free fpace 
 Beneath their boughs to catch each leflening charm 
 Ev'n to the far horizon's azure bound. 
 
 Nor will that fov'reign Arbitrefs admit, 
 \Vhere'er her nod decrees a mafs of fhade, 22o 
 Plants of unequal flze, difcordant kind, 
 Or rul'd by Filiation's d'uTerent laws ; 
 
 Put
 
 But for that needful purpofe thofe prefers 
 Whofe hues are friendly, whofe coeval leaves 
 The earlieft open, and the latefl fade. 225 
 
 Nor will fhe, fcorning truth and tafte, de- 
 vote 
 
 To ftrange, and alien foils, her feedling ftems ; 
 Fix the dank fallow on the mountain's brow, 
 Or, to the mofs-grown margin of the lake, 
 Bid the dry pine defcend. From Nature's laws 250 
 She draws her own : Nature and (he are one. 
 
 Nor will ftie, led by fafhion's lure, felect, 
 For obje&s interpos'd, the pigmy race 
 Of flirubs, or fcatter with unmeaning hand 
 Their offspring o'er the lawn, fcorning to 
 patch 255 
 
 With many a meagre and disjointed tuft 
 Its (ober furface : fidelong to her path 
 And polifti'd foreground flic confines their growth 
 Where o'er their heads the liberal eye may range. 
 
 Nor will her prudence, when intent to form 240 
 On; perfect whole, on feeble aid depend, 
 And give exotic wonders to our gaze. 
 She knows and therefore fears the faithlefs train : 
 
 Sagelj
 
 ( 70 ) 
 
 Sagely fhe calls on thofe of hardy clafs 
 Indigenous, who patient of the change 245 
 
 From heat to cold which Albion hourly feels, 
 Are brac'd with ftrength to brave it. Thefe alone 
 She plants, and prunes, nor grieves if nicer eyes 
 Pronounce them vulgar. Thefe (he calls her 
 
 friends, 
 
 That veteran troop who will not for a blaft 250 
 Of nipping air, like cowards, quit the field. 
 
 Far to the north of thy imperial towers, 
 Augufta ! in that wild and Alpine vale, 
 Thro' which the S'vale, by mountain-torrents 
 
 fwell'd, 
 
 Flings his redundant ftream, thereliv'da youth 255 
 Of polinY'd manners'; ample his domain, 
 And fair the fite of his paternal dome. 
 He lov'd the art I fing ; a deep adept 
 In Nature's ftory, well he knew the names 
 Of all her verdant lineage ; yet that (kill 2o"o 
 
 Milled his tafte ; fcornful of every bloom 
 That fpreads fpontaneous, from remoted lad 
 He brought his foliage ; carelefs of its coft, 
 Ev'n of its beauty carelefs ; it was rare, 
 Andt'ierefore beauteous. Now his laurel fcreen, 265 
 With rofe and woodbine negligently wove, 
 
 Bows
 
 Bows to the axe ; the rich Magnolias claim 
 The ftation ; now Herculean Beeches fell'd 
 Refign their rights, and warm Virginia fends 
 Her Cedars to uiurp them ; the proud Oak 270 
 Himfelf, ev'nHethe fov'rcignof the fhade, 
 Yields to the Fir that drips with Gilead's balm. 
 Now, Albion, gaze at glories not thy own ! 
 Paufe, rapid Swale ! and fee thy margin crown'd 
 With all the pride of Ganges : vernal fhowers 275 
 Hive fix'd their roots ; nutritious fummer funs 
 Favor'd their growth ; and mildefl autumn fmil'd 
 Benignant o'er them : vigorous, fair and tall, 
 They waft a gale of fpices o'er the plain. 
 But Winter comes, and with him watry Jove, 280 
 And with him Boreas in his frozen ftiroud; 
 The favage fpirit of old Swale is rous'd ; 
 He howls amidft his foam" At the dread fight 
 The Aliens (land aghaft j they bow their heads. 
 In vain the glafly penthoufe is fupply'd: 285 
 
 The pelting ftorm with icy bullets breaks 
 Its fragile barrier ; fee ! they fade, they die. 
 
 Warn'd by his error, let the Planter flight 
 Thefe IhivVing rarities ; or if, to pleafe 
 Faftidious Falhion, he mud needs, allot 290 
 
 Some
 
 ( 72 ) 
 
 Some fpace for foreign foliage, let him chufc 
 
 A fidelong glade, fhelter'd from eaft and north, 
 
 And free to fouthern and to weftern gales ; 
 
 There let him fix their ftation, thither wind 294 
 
 Some devious path, that, from the chief defign 
 
 Dctach'd, may lead to where they fafely bloom. 
 
 So in the web of epic fong fublime 
 
 The Bard Maeonian interweaves the charm 
 
 Of fofter epifode, yet leaves unbroke 
 
 The golden thread of his majeftic theme. 500 
 
 What elfe to fhun of formal, falfe, or vain, 
 Of long-lin'd Viftas, or plantations quaint 
 Our former drain have tanght. Inftru&ion now 
 Withdraws j {he knows her limits j knows that 
 
 Grace 
 
 Is caught by ftrong perception, not from rules j 305 
 That undreft Nature claims for all her limbs 
 Some fimple garb peculiar, which, howe'er 
 DiftinS their fize and ftiape, is fimple {till 
 This garb to chufe, with clothing denfe, or 
 
 thin, 
 
 A part to hide, another to adorn, 310 
 
 Is Tafle's important tafk ; preceptive fong 
 From error in the choice can only warn. 
 
 But
 
 ( 73 ) 
 
 But vain that warning voice ; vain ev'ry aid 
 Of Genius, Judgment, Fancy, to fccure 
 The Planter's lafting fame : There is a power, 315 
 A hidden power, at once his friend, and foe : 
 'Tis Vegetation. Gradual to his groves 
 She gives their wifh'd effect ; and, that difplay'd, 
 Oh, that her power would paufe ! but active ftill, 
 She fwells each (tern, prolongs each vagrant bough, 
 And darts with unremitting vigour bold 321 
 
 From Grace to wild luxuriance. Happier far 
 Are you, ye fons of CLAUDE ! who, from the 
 
 mine, 
 
 The earth, or juice of herb or flower concrete, 
 Mingle the mafs whence your Arcadias fpring : 325 
 The beauteous outline of your pictur'd fhadcs 
 Still keeps the bound you gave it ; Time that pales 
 Your vivid hues, refpecb your pleafing forms. 
 Not fo our Landfcapes : though we paint like you, 
 We paint with growing colours ; ev'ry year, 330 
 O'erpaffing that which gives the breadth of (hade 
 We fought, by rude addition mars our fcene. 
 
 Roufe then, ye Hinds ! ere yet yon clofing 
 
 boughs 
 
 Blot out the purple diflarice, fwift prevent 
 The fpreading evil : thin the crowded glades, 335 
 
 While
 
 ( 74 ) 
 
 While yet of flender fizc each ftem will thrive 
 Tranfplanted : Twice repeat the annual toil ; 
 Nor let the axe its beak, the faw its tocth 
 Refrain, whene'er fome random branch has ftray'd 
 Beyond the bounds of beauty ; elfe full foon, 340 
 Ev'n ere the Planter's life has paft its prime, 
 Will Albion's garden frown an Indian wild. 
 
 Foreboding Fears, avaunt ! be ours to urge 
 Ea'ch prefent purpofe by what favoring means 
 May work its end defign'd ; why deprecate 345 
 The change that waits on fublunary things, 
 Sad lot of their exiftence ? fhall we paufe 
 To give the charm of Water to our fcene, 
 For that the congregated rains may fwell 
 Its tide into a flood ? or that yon Sun, 350 
 
 Now on the Lion mounted, to his noon 
 Impels him, {baking from his fiery mane 
 A heat may parch its channel ? O, ye caves, 
 Deepen your dripping roo : s ! this feverilh hour*' 
 Claims all your coolnefs ; in your humid cells 3>5 
 Permit me to forget the Planter's toil ; 
 And, while I woo your Naiads to my aid, 
 Involve me in impenetrable gloom. 
 
 Bleil 
 * Ver. 354, Note XIX.
 
 ( 75 ) 
 
 is the Man (if blifs be human boaft) 
 Whofe fertile foil is wafh'd with frequent 
 ftreams, 360 
 
 And fprings falubrious. He difdains to tofs 
 Jn rainbow dews their cryftal to the fun ; 
 Or fink in fubterranean cifterns deep ; 
 That fo, through leaden fiphons upward drawn, 
 Thofe ftreams may leap fantaftic. He his ear 365 
 Shuts to the tuneful trifling of the Bard, * 
 Who trick'd a gothic theme with claflic flo-.vcrs, 
 And fung of Fountains burfting from the (hells 
 Of brazen Tritons, fpouting through the jaws 
 ' Of Gorgons, Hydras, and Chimasras dire.' 370 
 
 Peace to his Manes ! let the Nymphs of Seine 
 Cherifh his fame. Thy Poet, Albion ! fcorns, 
 Ev'n for a cold unconfcious element 
 To forge the fefters he would fcorn to wear. 
 His fong-ihall reprobate each effort vile, 375 
 
 That aims to force the Genius of the ftream 
 Beyond his native height ; or dares to prefs 
 Above that deftin'd line th' unwilling wave, 
 
 Is there within the circle of thy view 
 Some fedgy flat, v, h:re the late-ripen'd fheav.s -380 
 H Stand 
 
 * Ver. 36', Note X.
 
 Stand brown with unbleft mildew ? 'tis the bed 
 
 On which an ample lake in cryftal peace 
 
 Might deep majeftic. Paufe we yet ; psrchance 
 
 Some midway channel, where the foil declines, 
 
 Might there be delv'd, by levels duly led 385 
 
 In bold and broken curves: for water loves 
 
 A wilder outline than the woodland path, 
 
 And winds with fhorter bend. * To drain the reft 
 
 The (helving fp'ade may toil, till wintry (howers 
 
 Findtheirfreecourfedowneachdeclinmgbank. 390 
 
 Quit then the thought : a River's winding form, 
 
 With many a finuous bay, and Ifland green, 
 
 At lefs experice of labour and of !a~nd; 
 
 Will give thee equal beauty : feldo:n art 
 
 Can emulate that broad and bold extent 595 
 
 Which charms in native Lakes j and, fail in j 
 
 there, 
 
 Her works betray their character, and name, 
 And dwindle into pools. Not that our {train, 
 Faftidious, fhall difdaina frhall expanfe 
 Of ftagnant fluid, in forne fcehe confiiTd, 400 
 
 Circled with varied fhade, where, thro' the leaves, 
 The half-admitted funbeam trembling phys 
 O.t its clear boforn ; where aquatic fowl 
 Of varied tribe, and varied feather fail ; 
 
 And
 
 And wacr: the finny race their glittering fcales 405 
 Unwillingly rcvea! : There, there a'one, 
 Where burfls the general profpe& on our eye, 
 We fjorn thefe wat'ry patches : Thames him- 
 
 fcif, 
 
 Seen in disjointed fpotr, where Sal[ows hide 
 His firft bold prefence, feerns a firing of pools : 41 .. 
 A chart and coaipafs mull: explain his couri'e. 
 
 11:, v/ho would feize the Iliver's fov'reign 
 
 charm, 
 
 M-ft wind the moving mirror through his Unvn 
 Ev'nto remoteft diflance ; deep muil delve 
 The gravelly channel that prefcribes its courfe ; 415 
 Clofely conceal each tenpinating bound 
 I^y hill or fliade oppos'd ; and to its bank 
 Lifting the -level of the. copious ftream, 
 Mufl there retain it. But, if thy faint fprings 
 Refufe this large fupply, fteelthy firm foul 4"O 
 VVith iloic pride ; imperfect charms defpife : 
 Btaut.y, like Vjitpe, knows no groveling mean. 
 
 Who bqt muft pity that penurious ta.de, 
 Which down the quick-defcending vale prolong?, 
 Slope below (lope, a ftiffand unlink'd chain 425 
 H 2 Of
 
 Of flat canals ; then leads the Granger's eye 
 To fome predeftin'd ftation, there to catch 
 Their feeming union, and the fraud approve ? 
 Who but muft change that pity into fcorn, 
 If down each verdant ilope a narrow flight 430 
 Oi : central ftcps decfine, where the fpare dream 
 Sfeafs trickling ; or, withheld by cunning (kill, 
 Hoards its feint treasures, till the mafter'.s noJ 
 Decree its fall : Then d:wn the formal rtairs 
 Ir leaps with fnort-liv'd fury ; wafting there, 435 
 Poor prodigal ! what many a Summer's rain 
 And many a Winter's fnow fhall late reftore. 
 
 Learn that, whene'er in fome fublimer fcene 
 Imperial Nature of her headlong floods 
 Permits our imitation, (he herfelf 440 
 
 Prepares their refervoir; conceal'd perchance 
 In neighboring hills, where firfl it well behoves 
 Our toil to fearch, and ftudioufly augment 
 The wat'ry flore with fprings and fluic:s drav.n 
 From pools, that on the heath drink up the 
 rain. 415 
 
 Be thefe collected, like the Mifer's go!d, 
 In cue incrcnHng fund, nor dare to pour, 
 
 Down.
 
 ( 79 ) 
 
 Down thy impending mound, the bright cafcade, 
 Till richly fure of its redundant fall. 
 
 That mound to raife alike demands thy to'.l, 450 
 Ere Art adorn its furf ice. Here adopt 
 That facile mode which his inventive powers * 
 Firfl plann'd who led to rich Mancunium's mart 
 His long-drawn line of navigated flream. 
 Stupendous tafk ! in vain flood tow'ring hills 455 
 Oppos'd ; in vain did ample Irwell pour 
 Her Tide tranfverfe : he pierc'd the tow'ring hi!!, 
 He bridg'd the ample tide, and high in air, 
 And deep through earth his freighted barge he 
 
 bore. 
 
 This mode fhall temper ev'n the lighted foil 460 
 Firm to thy purpofe. Then let Tafte fele6t 
 The unhewn fragments, that may give its front 
 A rocky rudenefs j pointed fome, that there 
 The frothy fpouts may break ; forne flaunting 
 
 fmooth, 
 
 That therein filver fheet the wave may Hide. 465 
 Here too infix fome mofs-grown trunks of oak 
 Romantic, turn'd by gelid lakes to Rone, 
 Yet fo difpos'd as if they owed their change 
 
 H 3 To 
 
 * Ver. 452, Note XXII.
 
 C So ) 
 
 To what they now controu!. Then open wide 
 Thy floodgates ; then let do-.vn thy torrent : 
 then 470 
 
 Rejoice ; as if the thund'ring Tees* himfelf 
 Reign'd there amid his cataracts fublime. 
 
 And then hail caufe for triumph ! Kings them- 
 
 felves, 
 
 With all a nation's wealth, an army's toil, 
 If Nature frown averfe, ftiall ne'er atchieve 4*5 
 Such wonders : Nature's was the glorious gift ; 
 Thy art her menial handmaid. LilUning youths ! 
 To whofe ingenuous hearts I dill addrefs 
 The friendly ftrain> from fuch fevere attempt 
 Let Prudence warn you. Turn to this clear rill, 480 
 Which, while I bid your bold ambiricn ceafe, 
 Runs murmuring at my fide : O'er many a rood 
 Your {kill may lead the v, anderer ; mcny a mound 
 Of pebbles raife, to fret her in her courfe 
 Impatient : louder then will be her fong : 485 
 
 For fhe will 'plain, and gurgle, as ihe goes, 
 As does the widow'd ring-dove. Take, vain Pomp ! 
 Thy lakes, thy long canals, thy trim cafcadss, 
 Beyond them all true .tafts will dearly prizi 
 Thb little dimpling ti'eafure. Mark the cleft, 490 
 
 TBhio^h 
 
 * V.ti. ^71, Note XXIIL
 
 Through which fhe burfls to day. Behind that rock 
 A Naiad dwells : LINE i A is her name.; * 
 And fhe has fillers in contiguous cells, 
 Who never {aw the fun. Fond Fancy's eye, 
 That inly gives locality and 1'orrn 495 
 
 To what fhe prizes befl, full oft pervades 
 Thofe hidden caverns, where pale chryfolites, 
 And glittering fpars dart a myftenous gleam 
 Of inborn luirre, f.om the garifh day 
 Unborrow'd. There, by the wild Goddefs 
 
 ledi. 500 
 
 Oft have I fcen them bending o'er their urns, 
 Chaunting alternate airs of Dorian mood, 
 While fmooth they co;iib'd their moilt cerulean locks 
 With fliells of living pearl. Yet, let me own, 
 To thefe, or claHlc deities like thcfe,. 505 
 
 From very childhood was I prone to pay 
 Harmlefs idolatry. My infant .eyes. 
 Firft open'd on that bleak and boid'rous fliore, 
 Where Humber weds the nymphs cf Trent and 
 
 Oufe 
 
 To His, and Ocean's Tritons: thence full foon 510 
 My youth retir'd, and left the bufy ftrsnd 
 To Commerce and to Care. In Margaret's grove,-|- 
 Be.neath whofe time-wornihade old Camus fleepr, 
 
 Was 
 
 * V.er. 492, Note XXIV. -f- Vtr. 51?, Note XXV.
 
 Was next my tranquil ftation : Science there 
 Sat mufing ; and to thofe that lov'd the lore 515 
 Pointed, with myftic wand, to truths involv'd 
 In geometric fymbols, fcorning thofe, 
 Perchance too much, who woo'd the thriftlefs mufe. 
 Here, though in warbling whifper oft I breath'd 
 The lav, were wanting, what young Fancy 
 deems 520 
 
 The life-fprings of her being, rocks, and caves, 
 And huddling brooks and torrent-falls divine. 
 In queft of thefe, at Summer's vacant hour, 
 Pleas'd would I ftray, when in a northern vale, 
 So chance ordain'd, a Naiad fad I found 525 
 
 Robb'd of her filver vafe ; I footh'dthe nymph 
 With fong of fympathy, and curft the fiend 
 Who flole the gift of Thetis *. Hence the caufe 
 Why, favour'd by the blue-ey'd fifterhood, 
 They footh with fongs my folitary ear. 530 
 
 Nor is LINE i A filent " Long," fhe cries, 
 (( Too long has Man wag'd facrilegious war 
 " With the vext elements, and chief with that, 
 " Which elder Thales, and the Bard of Thebes 
 f( Held firil of things terreflial ; nor mifdeem'd : 535 
 ' < For, when the Spirit creative deign'd to move, 
 
 "He 
 *.Ver.533, Note XXVI.
 
 C 83 ) 
 
 " He mov'd upon the waters. O revere 
 " Our power : for were its vital force withheld, 
 " Where then are Vegetation's vernat bloom, 
 ( i Where its autumnal Wealth ? but we are 
 kind 540 
 
 f< As powerful ; O let reverence lead to love, 
 " And both to emulation ! Not a rill, 
 " That winds its fparkling current o'er the plain, 
 " Reflecting to the Sun bright recompenfe 
 te For ev'ry beam he lead-, but reads thy foul 545 
 " A generous lecture. Not a panfy pale, 
 " That drinks its daily nurture from that rill,. 
 " But breathes in fragrant accents to thy foul, 
 ' So by thy pity chea^'d, the languifh'd head 
 ' Of Poverty might fmile.' Who e'er beheld 550 
 " Our humble tra-n forfake their native-vale 
 s< To climb the haughty hill ?. Ambition fpeak ! 
 " He blufhes, and is mute. When did our ftreams, 
 " By force unpent, in dull flagnation fleep ? 
 ' ' Let Sloth unfold his arms and tell the time. 555 
 ' ' Or, if the tyranny of Art infring'd 
 " Our rights, when did our patient floods fubmit 
 " Without recoil ? Servility retires, 
 " And clinks his gilded chain. O, learn from us, 
 ' And tell it to thy Nation, Britifli Bard ! 560 
 " Uncurb'd Ambition, unrefifting Sloth, 
 
 "And
 
 ( 84 ) 
 
 " And bafe Dependence are the fiends accuift 
 t( That pull down mighty empires. If they fcoru 
 " The awful truth, be thin: to hold it dear. 
 " So, through the vale of life, thy flowing 
 hours 5^5 
 
 * Shall glidi ieren: j and, like LISEI A'S rill, 
 f( Their free, yet not: licentious cojrfe fulnii'd,, 
 '' Sink in the Ocean of Eternity." 
 
 EMD OF THfi THIRD BOOK. 
 
 THE
 
 THE 
 
 ENGLISH GARDEN. 
 
 BOOK T FI E . FOU R T II.
 
 THE 
 
 ENGLISH GARDEN. 
 
 BOOK THE FOURTH. 
 
 IN OR yet, divine SIMPLICITY, withdraw 
 
 That aid aufpicious, which, in Art's domain, 
 
 Already has reform'd whate'er prevail'd 
 
 Of foreign, or of falfe > has led the curve 
 
 That Nature loves thro' all her fylvan haunts ; 5 
 
 Has flol'n the fence unnotic'd that arrefts 
 
 Her vagrant herds ; giv'n luflre to her lawns, 
 
 Gloom to her groves, and, in expanfe ferene, 
 
 Devolv'd that wat'ry mirror at her foot, 
 
 O'er which fhe loves to bend and view her chains, ro 
 
 And tell me Thou, whoe'er haft new-arrang'd 
 By her chafte rules thy garden, if thy heart 
 
 I Feels
 
 ( 88 ) 
 
 Feels not the warm, the felf-dilating 
 Of true Benevolence. Thy flocks, thy herds, 
 That browze luxurious o'er thole very plots 15 
 Which once were barren, blefs thee for the change ; 
 The birds of Air (which thy funereal Yews 
 Of fhape uncouth, and leaden Sons of Earth, 
 Antaeus and Enceladu's, with clubs 
 Uplifted, long had frighted from the fcene) 20 
 Now pleas'd return, they perch on ev'ry fpray, 
 And fwell their little throats, and warble wild 
 Their vernal minftrelfy ; to Heav'n and Thee 
 It is a hymn of thanks : do thou, like Heav'n, 
 With tutelary care reward their fong. 25 
 
 Ere-while the Mufe, induftrious to combine 
 Nature's own charms, with thefe alone adorn'd 
 The Genius of the Scene ; but other gifts 
 She has in ftore, which gladly now flie brings, 
 And he fhall proudly wear. Know, when flie 
 broke 30 
 
 The fpells of Fafhion, from the crumbling wreck 
 Of her enchantments fagely did flie cull 
 Thofe reliques rich of old Vitruvian (kill, 
 With what the Sculptor's hand in claiTic davs 
 Made breathe in Brafs or Marble ; thefe the Hag 55 
 Had purloin'd, and difpos'd in Folly's fane ; 
 
 To
 
 ( 89 ) 
 
 To him thefe trophies of her vi&ory 
 She bears ; and where his av.'ful nod ordains 
 3onfpicuous means to place. He fliall diret 
 Eler dubious judgment, from the various hoard 40 
 Df ornamental treafures, how to chufe 
 The fimpleft and the befl ; on thefe his feal 
 ihall ftamp great Nature's image and his own, 
 To charm for unborn ages. Fling the reft 
 3ack to the Beldame, bid her whirl them all 45 
 n her vain vortex, lift them now to-day, 
 Now plunge in night, as, thro' the humid rack 
 Of April cloud, fwi.t flits the trembling beam. 
 
 But precepts tire, and this faftidious Age 
 Rejects the ftrain dida&ic : Try we then 50 
 
 In livelier Narrative the truths to veil 
 We dare not dictate. Sons of Albion, hear ! 
 The tale I tell is full of ftrange event, 
 And piteous circumrtance ; yet deem not ye, 
 If names I feign, that therefore fads are feign'd : 55" 
 Nor hence refufe (what moft augments the charm 
 Of ftoried v/oe) that fond credulity 
 Which binds th' attentive foul in clofer chains. 
 
 At manhood's prime ALCANDER'S duteous tear 
 
 Fell on his Father's grave. The fair Domain, 60 
 
 I a Which
 
 ( 90 ) 
 
 Which then became his ample heritage, 
 That Father had reform'd ; each line defiroy'd 
 Which Belgic dulnefs plann'd ; and Nature's fell 
 Reflor'd to all the rights fhe wifh'd to claim. 
 
 Crowning a gradual hill his Manfion rofe 65 
 In antient Englifh grandeur : Turrets, Spires, 
 And Windows, climbing high from bafe to roof 
 In wide and radiant rows, befpoke its birth 
 Coeval with thofe rich cathedral fanes, 
 (Gothic ill-nam'd) where harmony refults 70 
 From difunited parts ; and fliapes minute, 
 At once diftincl: and blended, boldly form 
 One vaft majeftic whole. No modern ait 
 Had marr'd with mifplac'd fymmetry the Pile. 
 ALC ANDER held it facred : On a height, 75 
 
 Which weftering to its fite the front furvey'd^ 
 He firft his tafte employ'd : for there a line 
 Of thinly fcatter'd Beech too tamely broke 
 The blank Horizon. " Draw we round yon 
 
 knowl," 
 
 ALC ANDER cry'd, " in {lately Norman mode, 80 
 " A wall embattled ; and within its guard 
 " Let every ftru&ure needful for a Farm 
 " Arife in Caftle-femblance ; the huge Barn 
 " Shall with a mock Portcullis arm the gate, 
 
 " Where
 
 ( 91 ) 
 
 " Where Ceres entering, o'er the flail-proof floor 85 
 " In golden triumph rides ; fome Tower rotund 
 " Shall to the Pigeons and their callow young 
 " Safe rooft afford ; and ev'ry buttrefs broad, 
 " Whofe proud projection feems a mafs o; flone, 
 " Give fpace to flail the heifer, and the deed. 90 
 " So (hall each part, tho' turn'dto rural ufe, 
 " Deceive the eye with thofe bold feudal forms 
 " That Fancy loves to gaze on." This atch- 
 
 iev'd 
 
 Now nearer home he calls returning Art 
 To hide theftru&ure rude where Winterpounds 95 
 In conic pit his congelations hoar, 
 That Summer may his tepid beverage cool 
 With the chill luxury ; his Dairy too 
 There {lands of form unfightly : both to veil, 
 He builds of old disjointed mofs-grown {lone roo 
 A time-ftruck Abbey *. An impending grove 
 Screens it behind with reverential fhade ; 
 While bright in front the ftream reflecting fpreads, 
 Which winds a mimic River o'er his Lawn. 
 The Fane conventual there is dimly feen, 105 
 The mitred Window, and the Cloiiler pale, 
 With many a mouldering Column; Ivy fooji 
 
 I 3 Round 
 
 * Ver. i or, Note XXV II.
 
 ( 92 ) 
 
 Round the rude chinks her net of foliage fprcads; 
 Its verdant mefties feem to prop the wall. 
 
 One native Glory, more than all fublime, 1 10 
 ALC ANDER'S fcene poiTeft : 'Twas Ocean's felf - 
 He, boift'rous King, againft the eaftern cliffs 
 Dafh'd his white foam ; a verdant vale between 
 Gave fplendid ingrefs to his world of waves. 
 Shunting this vale the mound of that clear 
 
 ftream 115 
 
 Lay hid in faade, which flowly lav'd his Lawn : 
 But there fet free^ the rill refum'd its pace, 
 And hurried to the Main.. The dell it pad. 
 Was rocky and retir'd : Here Art with eafc 
 Might lead it o'er a Grot, and filter'd there, I2o 
 Teach it to fparkle down its craggy {ides, 
 And fall and tinkle on its pebbled floor. 
 Here then that Grot he builds, and conchs with 
 
 fpars, 
 
 Mofs petrified with branching corallines 
 In mingled mode arranges : All found here 125; 
 Propriety of place ; what view'd the Main 
 Might well the fhelly gifts of Thetis bear. 
 Not fo the inland cave : with richer (lore 
 Than thofe the neighb'ring mines and mountains 
 
 yield 
 
 To
 
 ( 93 > 
 
 To hang its roof, would feem incongruomPride, 1 50 
 And fright the local Genius from the fcene. * 
 
 One vernal morn, as urging here the work 
 Surrounded by his hinds, from mild to cold 
 The Seaibn chang'd, from cold to fudden ftorm, 
 From ftorm to whirlwind. To the angry main 135 
 Swiftly he turns and fees a laden Ship 
 Difmafted by its rage- " Hie, hie we all," 
 ALCANDER cry'd, " quick to the neighb'ring 
 
 beach." 
 
 They flew ; they came, but only to behold, 
 Tremendous fight ! the Veflel dafli its poop 140 ! 
 Amid the boiling breakers. Need I tell. 
 What ftrenuous Arts were us'd, when all were us'd, 
 To fave the (inking Crew ? One tender Maid 
 Alone efcap'd, fav'd by AI^CANDER'S arm, 
 Who boldly fwam to fnatch her from the plank 145 j 
 To which (he feebly clung ; fwiftly to fhore, 
 And fwifter to his home the youth convey'd, 
 His clay-cold prize, who at his portal firft 
 By one deep figh a fign of Life betray'd. 
 
 A Maid fo fav'd, if but by Nature bleft 150 
 With common charms, had foon awak'd a flame 
 More ftrong than Pity, "in that melting heart 
 Which Pity warm'd before. But {he was fair 
 
 As 
 
 * Ver. 131, Note XXVIII.
 
 ( 94 ) 
 
 As Poets picture Hebe, o^ the Spring ; 
 Graceful wit.'ial, as if each limb were caft 155 
 In that icha! mould whence RAPHAEL drc.v 
 His Galatea* : Yes, th' impaflion'd Youth 
 Felt more than pity when he view'd her charms. 
 Yet (he, (ah, ftrange to tell) tho' much he lov'd, 
 Suppreft as much that fympathetic flame 160 
 
 Which Love like his fliould kindle : Did he kneel 
 In rapture at her feet ? * (he bow'd the head, 
 And coldly bade him rife; or did he plead, 
 In terms of pureft paflion, for a frnile ? 
 She gave him but a tear : his manly form, 165 
 His virtues, ev'n the courage that prefervM 
 Her life, befeem'd no fentiment to wake 
 Warmer than gratitude ; and yet the love 
 With-held from him fhe freely gave his fcenes ; 
 On all their charms a juft applaufe beftow'd ; 1 70 
 And, if flie e'er was happy, only then 
 When wanJ'ring where thofe charms were moft 
 difplay'd. 
 
 As thro' a neighb'ring Grove, where antient beech 
 Their awful foliage flung, ALCANDER led 
 The penfive maid along, "Tellme,"fhecry'd, 175 
 " Why, on thefe forcft features all-intent, 
 
 " For- 
 
 * Ver. 157, Note XXIX.
 
 ( 95 ) 
 
 " Forbears my friend fome fcene diftin<3: to give 
 f( To Flora and her fragrance ? Well I know 
 " That in the general Landfcape's broad expanfe 
 " Their little blooms are loft ; but here are 
 
 glades, 1 80 
 
 " Circled with (hade,, yet pervious to the fun, 
 " Where, if cnamell'd with their rainbow-hues, 
 " The eye would catch their fplendor : turn thy 
 
 Tafte, 
 
 *' Ev'n in this grjfly circle where we ftand, 
 '' To form their plots* there weave a woodbine 
 
 Bower, 185 
 
 " And call that BowerNE RIKA'S. At the word 
 ALCANDER fmil'd; his fancy inftant form'd 
 The fragrant fcene (he wifti'd ; and Love, with Art 
 Uniting, foon produc'd the rmifh'd whole. 
 
 Down to the South the glade by Nature lean'd ; 190 
 Art form'd the flope (till fofter, opening there 
 Its foliage, and to each Etefian gale 
 Admittance free difpenfing ; thickeft (hade 
 Guarded the reft. His tafte will bed conceive 
 The new arrangement, whofe free footfteps,us'd 195 
 To foreft haunts, have pierc'd their opening dells, 
 Where frequent tufts of fweetbriar, box, or thorn, 
 Steal on the green fward, but admit fair fpace 
 For many a mo(Ty maze to wind between. 
 
 So
 
 ( 9* ) 
 
 So here did Art arrange her flow'ry groups 2CO 
 
 Irregular,, yet not in patches quaint *, 
 
 But interpos'd between the wand'ring lines 
 
 Of fhaven turf which twifted to the path, 
 
 Gravel or fand, that in as wild a wave 
 
 Stole round the verdant limits of the fcene ; 205 
 
 Leading the Eye to many a fculptur'd buft 
 
 On fhapely pedeftal, of Sage, or Bard, 
 
 Bright heirs of fame, who living lov'd the haunts 
 
 So fragrant, fo fequefter'd. Many an Urn 
 
 There too had place, with votive lay in r crib'd 2io 
 
 To- Freedo/n, Friendship, Solitude, or Love. 
 
 And now each flower that bears tranfplanting 
 
 change, 
 
 Or blooms indigenous, adbrn'd the fccne : 
 Only NERINA'S wifh, her woodbine bower, 
 Remain'd to crown the whole. Here, far beyond 215 
 That humble wifti, her Lover's Genius form'd 
 A glittering Fane, where rare and alien plants 
 Might fafcly flourifhf ; where the Citron fweet, 
 And fragrant Orange, rich in fruit and flowers, 
 Might hang their filvcr ftars, their golden globes, 22O 
 On the fame odorous ftem : Yet fcorning there 
 The glafTy penthoufe of ignoble form, 
 
 High 
 
 * Ver. 201, Note XXX. 
 t Ver. 218, Note XXXll
 
 ( 97 ) 
 
 High on Ionic fliafts he bade it tower 
 
 A proud Rotunda ; to its fides conjoin'd 
 
 Two broad Piazzas in theatric curve, 225 
 
 Ending in equal Porticos fublime. 
 
 Glafs rooft the whole, and fidelong to the South 
 
 'Twixt ev'ry fluted Column, lightly rear'd 
 
 Its wall pellucid. All within was day, 
 
 Was genial Summer's day, for fecret ftoves, 230 
 
 Thro' all the pile folftitial warmth convey'd. 
 
 Thefe led thro' ifles of Fragrance to the Dome, 
 Each way in circling quadrant. That bright fpace 
 Guarded the fpicy tribes from Afric's ihore, 
 Or Ind, or Araby, Sabasan Plants 235 
 
 Weeping with nard, and balfam. In the midft 
 A Statue flood, the work of Attic Art ; 
 Its thin light drapery, caft in fluid folds, 
 Proclaim'd its antientry; all fave the head, 
 Which dole (for Love is prone to gentle thefts) 240 
 The features of NERINA ; yet that head, 
 So perfect in refemblance as its air 
 So tenderly impaffion'd ; to the trunk, 
 Which Grecian {kill had form'd, fo aptly join'd, 
 'PHIDIAS himfelf might feem to have infpir'd 245 
 The chiirel, brib'd to do the am'rous fraud. 
 One graceful hand held forth a flow'ry wreath, 
 
 The
 
 C 98 ) 
 
 The other preft her zone ; while round the bafe 
 Dolphins, and Triton {hells, and plants marine 
 Proclaim'd, that Venus, rifing from the Tea, 250 
 Had veil'd in Flora's modeft veft her charms. 
 
 Such was the Fane, and fuch the Deity 
 Who feem'd, with fmile aufpicious, to inhale 
 That incenfe which a tributary world 
 From all its regions round her altar breath'd : 255 
 And yet, when to the fhrine ALCANDER led 
 His living Goddefs, only with a figh, 
 And ftarting tear, the ftatue and tke dome 
 Relu&antly ihe view'd. And " why," flic cry'd, 
 " Why would my beft Preferver here erect, 26~o 
 " With all the fond idolatry of Love, 
 " A Wretch's image whom his Pride fhould fcorn, 
 " (For fohis Country bids him) ? Drive me hence, 
 " Tranfport me quick to Gallia's hoftile fhore, 
 " Hoftile to thee, yet not, alas! to her, 265 
 " Who there was meant to fojourn : there per- 
 
 " chance, 
 
 " My Father, wafted by more profp'rous gales, 
 " Now mourns his Daughter loft; my Brother there 
 " Perhaps now fooths that venerable age . 
 " He fliould not footh alone. Vain thought ! per- 
 ** chance 270 
 
 " Both
 
 ( 99 ) 
 
 ' Both perifh'd at Efopus do not blufli, 
 
 *' It was not thou that lit the ruthlefs flame | 
 " It was not thou, that, like remorfelefs Cam, 
 *< Thirfled for Brother's bloods thy heart difdains 
 '*' The favage imputation. Reft thee there, 27$ 
 * ' And, tho' thou pitiefl, yet forbear to grax:e^ 
 ""A wretched Alien, and a Rebel deem'd, 
 ft With honors ill-befeeming her to claim. 
 * f My wifh, thou know'ft, was humble as my 
 
 ftate; 
 
 <( I only begg'd a little woodbine bower, 280 
 *' Where I might fit and weep, while all around 
 " The lilies and the blue bells hung their heads 
 '* In feeming fympathy." " Does then the fcenc 
 " Difpfeafe^" the difappoimed lover cry'd ; 
 *' Alas ! too much it pleafes," figh'd the fair ; 285 
 <f Too ftrongly paints the paffion which ftern 
 
 Fate 
 
 " Forbids me to return." " Doft thou then love 
 * Some happier youth ?" " No, tell thy generous 
 
 " foul 
 
 *' Indeed I do not." More (he would have faid, 
 But gufliing grief prevented. From the Fane 29 
 Silent he led her ; as from Eden's bower 
 The Sire of Men his weeping Partner led, 
 Lcfs lovely, and lefs innocent than fhe. 
 
 K Yet
 
 Yet ftill ALCANDER hop'd what laft (he figh'd 
 Spoke more than gratitude i the War might 
 
 end j 295 
 
 Her Father might confent ; for that alone 
 Now feem'd the duteous barrier to his blifs. 
 Already had he fent a faithful friend 
 To learn if France the reverend Exile held : 
 That friend return'd not. Meanwhile ev'ry fun 300 
 Which now (a year elaps'd) diurnal rofe 
 Beheld her ftill more penfive ; inward Pangs, 
 From griefs concealment, hourly feem'd to force 
 Health from her cheek, and Quiet from her foul. 
 ALCANDER mourn'd the change, yet ftill he 
 
 hop'd ; 305 
 
 For Love to Hope his flickering taper lends, 
 When Reafon with his fteady torch retires : 
 Hence did he try by ever-varying arts, 
 And fcenes of novel charm her grief to calm. 
 
 Nor did he not employ the Syren Powers 310 
 Of Mufic and of Song ; or Painting, thine, 
 Sweet fource of pure delight ! But I record 
 Thofe arts alone, which form my fylvan theme. 
 
 f At ftated hours, full oft had he obferv'd, 
 She fed wkh welcome grain the houfehold fowl 3 1 5 
 
 That
 
 That trefpaft on his lawn ; this wak'd a wiih 
 To give her feather'd fav'rites fpace of land, 
 And lake appropriate : in a neighb'ring copfe 
 He plann'd the fcene ; Tor there the cryltal fpring, 
 That form'd his river, from a rocky cleft 320 
 
 Find bubbling broke to day j and fpreading there 
 Slept on its nifties. "Here my delving hinds," 
 He cry'd, " fhall foon the marfhyfoil remove, 
 ' And fpread, in brief extent, a glittering Lake 
 [ ' Chequer'd with ifles of verdure; on yon Rock 3 25 
 A fculptur'd River-God fhall reft his urn ; 
 " And thro' that urn the native fountain flow. 
 " Thy wifh'd-for bower, NERINA, fhall adorn 
 " The fouthern bank ; the downy race, that 
 
 " fwim 
 " The lake, or pace the fhore, with livelier 
 
 " charms, 330 
 
 * { Yet no lefs rural, here will meet thy glance, 
 " Than flowers inanimate." Full foon was fcoopt 
 The wat'ry bed x , and foon, by margin green, 
 And rifing banks, inclos'd ; the higheft gave 
 Site to a ruflic fabric, ihelving deep 335 
 
 Within the thicket, and in front compos'd 
 Of three unequal arches, lowly all 
 The furer to expel the noontide glare, 
 Yet yielding liberal in'et to the fcene ; 
 
 K 2 Woodbine
 
 ( 102 ) 
 
 Woodbine with jafmine carelefsly entwin-'d 340 
 Conceal'd the needful mafonry, and hung 
 In free feftoons, and vetted all the cell. 
 Hence did the lake, the iflands, and the rock, 
 A living landfcape fpread ; the feather'd fleet, 
 Led by two mantling fwans, at ev'ry creek 345 
 Now touch'd, and now unmoor'd ; now on full 
 
 fail, 
 
 With pennons fpread and oary feet they ply'd 
 Their vagrant voyage ; and now, as if becalm'd* 
 'Tween fhore and fliore at anchor feem'd to deep. 
 Around thofe fhoresthe-Fowl that fear theftream 350 
 At random, rove : hither hot Guinea fends 
 Her gadding troop ; here midft his fpeckled Dames 
 The pigmy Chanticleer of Bantam winds 
 His clarion j while, fupreme in glittering (late, 
 The Peacock fpreads his rainbow train, with eyes 355 
 Of fapphire bright, irradiate each with gold. 
 Mean-while from ev'ry fpray the Ringdoves coo> 
 The Linnets warble, captive none*, but lur'd 
 By food to haunt the umbrage : all the Glade 
 I i Life, is Alulic, Liberty, and Love. 360 
 
 And is t'lere now to Pleafure or to Ufe 
 One fcene devoted in the wide domain 
 
 Its 
 
 * Ver. 358, Ntte XXXIL
 
 C 103 ) 
 
 Its Mafter has not polifh'd ? Rumour fpreads 
 
 Its praifes far, and many a ftranger flops 
 
 With curious eye to cenfure or admire. 365 
 
 To all his Lawns are pervious ; oft himfelf 
 
 With courteous greeting will the critic hail, 
 
 And join him in the circuit. Give we here 
 
 (If Candour will with patient ear attend) 
 
 The focial dialogue ALCANDER held 37^ 
 
 With one, a youth of mild yet manly mein, 
 
 Who feem'd to tafte the beauties he furvey'd. 
 
 f< Little, I fear me, will a Granger's eye 
 " Find here to praife, where rich Vitruvian 
 
 " Art 
 
 " Has rear'd no temples, no triumphal arcs ; 575 
 " Where no Palladian bridges fpan the ftream, 
 ** But all is homebred Fancy." " For that caufe, 
 " And chiefly that," the polifh'd Youth re- 
 
 ply'd, 
 
 " I view each part with rapture. Ornament, 
 ft When foreign or fantaftic, never charm 'd- 380^ 
 " My judgment ; here I tread on Britifh ground j 
 '* With Britifh annals all I view accords. 
 " Some Yorkift, or Lancaflrian Baron bold,. 
 '* To awe his vafTals, or to ftem.his foes, 
 *' Yon mafTy bulwark built ; on yonder pile, 385 
 1C In
 
 ( 104 ) 
 
 " In ruin beauteous, I diftin&ly mark 
 
 " The ruthlefs traces of Hern HENRY'S hand," 
 
 "Yet," cry'd ALCAND.ER, (interrupting mild 
 The ftranger's fpeech) " if fo, yon antient feat, 
 " Pride omy anceftors, had mock'd repair, 390 
 " And by Proportion's Greek or Roman laws 
 '/ That pile had been rebuilt, thou wouldft not 
 
 " then, 
 
 " I truft, have blam'd, if, there on Doric ftiafts 
 " A temple rofe ; if fome tall obelifk 
 " O'ertopt yon grove, or bold triumphal arch 395 
 " Ufurptmy Caftle'sftation." " Spare me yet 
 " Yon folemn Ruin," the quick youth return'd, 
 tf No mould'ring aqueduct, no yawning crypt 
 '* Sepulchral, will confole me for its fate," 
 
 " I.mean not that," the Matter of thcfcene 400, 
 Reply'd; " tho' claffic rules to modern piles. 
 *' Should give, the juft arrangement, fhun we. 
 
 " here 
 
 '* By thofe to form our Ruins ; much we own 
 " They pleafe, wlieri, by PANINI'S pencil drawn^ 
 " Or darkly grav'd by PIRANESI'S hand, 405, 
 " And fitly might fome Tufcan garden grace ; 
 '_' But Time's rude mace has here all Roman piles. 
 
 Lcvell'd
 
 A, 
 
 'd lol 
 
 ft Levell'd lolow, that who, on Brltifh ground 
 " Attempts the tafk, builds bat a fplendid lye 
 ' Which mocks hiftoric credence. Hence the caufc 
 " Why Saxon piles or Norman here prevail : 41 1" 
 " Form they a rude,. 'tis yet an Englifh whole." 
 
 tc And much I praifc thy choice," the ftranger 
 
 cry'd; 
 
 ** Such chafte feleftion (names the common mode, 
 '' Which,, mingling ftru&ures of far diftant 
 
 " times, 415- 
 
 " Far diftant regions, here, perchance, erefts 
 ** A. fane to Freedom, where her BRUTUS (lands 
 " In acl: to ftrike the tyrant ; there a Tent, 
 " With crefcent crown'd, with fcymitars adorn'd^ 
 " Meet for fome BAJAZET; northward we 
 
 " turn, 420 
 
 " And lo ! a pigmy Pyramid pretends 
 " We tread the realms of PHAR^H ; quickly 
 
 " thence 
 
 ** Our fouthern ftep prefentsus heaps of ftone 
 " Rang'd in a DRUID circle. Thus from age 
 '* To age, from clime to clime ineeffant borne, 425 
 " Imagination flounders headlong on, 
 " Till, like fatigu'd VILLARIO *, foon we find. 
 *' We better like a field." " Nicely thy hand] 
 
 The 
 
 * Ver, 427, Note XXXIII,
 
 ( 106 ) 
 
 ff The childifli landfcape touches," cries his hoft r 
 ft For Faftiion ever is a wayward child ; 430 
 
 fc Yet fure we might forgive Her faults like thefe, 
 f( If but in feparate or in fingle fcenes 
 <s She thus with Fancy wanton'd : S-iould I lead 
 " Thy ftep, my Friend, (for our accordant taftes 
 *' Prompt me to give thee that familiar name) 435 
 " Behind this fcreen of Elm, thou there might'ft 
 
 " find 
 
 " I too had idly play'd the truant's part, 
 " And broke the bounds of judgment." (f Lead 
 
 " me there," 
 
 Brifkly the Youth return'd, " for having prov'd 
 *' Thy Epic Genius here, why not perufe 440 
 " Thy lighter Ode or Eclogue?" Smiling thence 
 ALCANDER led him to the Woodbine bower 
 Which laft our Song defcrib'd, who feated there, 
 In filent tranfport view'd the lively fcene. 
 
 * 
 
 f( I fee," his hoft refum'd, " my fportiveart 445^ 
 " Finds pardon here ; not ev'n yon claffic form, 
 " Pouring his liquid treafures from his vafe, 
 *' Tho' foreign from the foil, provokes thy frown. * 
 " Try we thy candor farther : higher art, 
 " And more luxurious, haply too more vain, 450 
 " Adorns yon fouthern coppice. ({ On they part: 
 
 Thro' 
 * Ver.-448, Note XXXIV.
 
 Thro' a wild thicket, till the perfum'd air 
 
 Gave to another fenfe its prelude rich 
 
 On what the eye fhould feaft. But now the grove 
 
 Expands ; and now the Rofe, the garden's Queen, 
 
 Amidft her blooming fubje&s' humbler charms, 455 
 
 On ev'ry plot her crimfon pomp difplays. 
 
 " Oh Paradife !" theent'ring youth exclaim'd, 
 
 " Groves whofe rich trees weep odorous gums and 
 
 " balm, 
 
 ** Others whofe fruit, burnifh'd with golden rind, 
 " Hang amiable, Hefperian fables true, 461 
 
 ' If true, here only*." Thus, in Milton's phraf 
 Sublime, the youth his admiration pour'd, 
 While paffing to the dome ; his next fhort ftep 
 Unveil'd the central ftatue : " Heav'ns ! juft 
 
 " Heav'ns," 465 
 
 He cry'd, " 'tis my NERINA." " Thine, mad 
 
 " Youth ? 
 
 " Forego the word," ALC ANDER faid, and paus'd; 
 His utterance fail'd ; athoufand cluft'ring thoughts, 
 And all of blackeft omen to his peace, 
 Recoil'd upon his brain, deaden'd all fenfe, ' 470 
 And at the ftatue's bafe him headlong caft, 
 A lifelefs load of being.- Ye, whofe hearts 
 Are ready at Humanity's foft call 
 TO drop the tear, I charge you weep not yet* 
 
 * Ver. 462, Note XXXY.
 
 ( io8 ) 
 
 But fearfully fufpend the burfting woe r 475 
 
 NERINA'S felf appears; the further ifle 
 
 She, fate-dire&ed, treads. Does flie too faint ? 
 
 Would Heaven (he could I it were a happy fwoon 
 
 Might foften her fixt form, more rigid now 
 
 Than is her marble femblance. One ftiff hand 480 
 
 Lies leaden on her breaft ; the other rais'd 
 
 To heav'n, and half-way clench'd ; ftedfaft her 
 
 eyes, 
 
 Yet vlewlefs ; and her lips, which op'd to ftiriek, 
 Can neither ftiriek nor clofe. So might flic ftand 
 For ever : He, whofe fight caus'd the dread change,. 
 Tho' now he clafps her in his anxious arm, 486 
 Fails to unbend one (mew of her frame ; 
 'Tisice; 'tis fteel. But fee, ALC AND ER wakes ? 
 And waking, as by magic fympathy, 
 NERINA whifpers, " All is well, my friend ; 49* 
 
 " 'Twas but a vifion ; I may yet revive 
 
 " But flill his arm-fupports me; aid him, friend, 
 " And bear me fwiftly to my woodbine bower ; 
 " For there indeed I wifh to breathe my laft." 
 
 So faying, her cold cheek, and parched brow, 495 
 Turn'd to a livid palenefs ; her dim eyes 
 Sunk in their fockets j lharp contraction preft 
 Her temples, ears, and noflrils : figns well known 
 
 To
 
 ( 109 ) 
 
 To thofe that tend the dying *. Both the youths 
 Perceiv'd the change j and had ftern Death him- 
 felf 500 
 
 Wav'd his black banner vifual o'er their heads, 
 lit could not more appall. With trembling flep, 
 And filent, both convey'd her to the bower. 
 
 Her languid limbs there decently compos'd, 
 SShe thus her fpeech refum'd : " Attend my 
 
 " words, 505 
 
 * f Brave CLEON ! dear ALCANDER ! generous 
 
 " Pair,- 
 
 For both have tender intereft in this heart 
 *' Which foonfliall beat no more. That I am thine 
 " By a dear Father's juft commands I own, 
 4< Much-honour'd CLEON ! take the hand he gave, 
 " And with it, Oh, if I could give my heart, 511 
 " Thou wert its worthy owner. All I can, 
 *' (And that preferv'd with chaftefl fealty) 
 " Duteous I givethee, CLEON, it is thine ; 
 (( Not ev'n this dear preferver, e'er could gain 515 
 t( More from my foul thanFriendlhip that be his; 
 " Yet let me own, what, dying, fooths the pang, 
 *< That, had thyfelf and duty ne'er been known, 
 ** He mufthave had my love." Shepaus'd; and 
 
 dropt 
 
 A filent 
 * Yer, 499. Note XXXVI.
 
 A filent tear ; then preft the Granger's hand ; 520 
 Then bow'd her head upon ALC ANDER'S breaft, 
 And " blefs them both, kind Hcav'n I" fhe pray'd, 
 and died. 
 
 <f Andbleft art thou," cry'dCLEON, (in a voice 
 Struggling with grief of utterance) bleft to die 
 <t Ere thou hadft queftion'd me, and I perforce 525 
 " Had told a tale which muft have fent thy foul 
 " In horror from thy bofom. Now it leaves 
 " A fmile of peace upon thofe pallid lips, 
 f( That fpeaks its parting happy. Go, fair faint ! 
 <e Go to thy palm-crown'd father ! thron'd in blifs, 
 *' And feated by his fide, thou wilt not now 531 
 " Deplore the favage ftroke that feal'd his doom ; 
 " Go hymn the Fount of Mercy,- who, from ill 
 f< Educing good, makes ev'n a death like his, 
 ft A life furcharg'd with tender woes like thine, 535 
 " The road to Joys eternal. Maid, farewell ! 
 "I leave the cafket that thy virtues held 
 * f To Him whofe breaft fuftains it ; more belov'd, 
 " Perhaps more worthy, yet not loving more 
 " Than did thy wretched CLEON." At the 
 word 540 
 
 He bath'd in tears the hand Ihe dying gave, 
 Returned it to her fide, and hafty rofe. 
 ALC AND ER, ftarting from his trance of grief, 
 
 Cry'd
 
 :ry'd " Stay, I charge thee ftay ;" " and (hall he 
 " fey," 544 
 
 JLE ON reply'd, ' ' whofe prefence ftabb'dthy peace ? 
 Hear this before we part : That breathlefs M-iid 
 Was daughter to a venerable Sage, 
 Whom Bofton, when with peace and fafety 
 
 " bleft, 
 
 In rapture heard pov.r from his hallo vr'd tonjue 
 Religion's pureft dictates. 'Twas my chance* 
 In early period of our civil broils, 55 i 
 
 To fave his precious life : And hence the Sire 
 Did to ray love his Daughter's charms confign ; 
 But, till the war fhould ceafe, if ever ceafe, 
 Defei r'ci cur nuptials. Whither fee was fent 555 
 In fearch of fa'ety, vireil, I trurt, thou know*ft; 
 He meant to foHo'.v ; but thofe rut'ilefs flames, 
 That fparM nor friend nor foe, nor fc:: nor nge^ 
 Involved the v;ib.ge, where on rfchly couch 
 He lay confin'd, and whither he had fied 56*0 
 Awhile to.fojourn. There (I fee thee fhrink) 
 \Vas he that gave I^RINA being burnt ! 
 Burnt by thy Countrymen 1 to Afhes burnt ! 
 Fraternal hands and chri'tian lit the flame. 
 
 *' Ohthouhaftcaufetofhudd^r. I meanwhile 5^5 
 With his brave fon a diilant warfare wag'd; 
 
 "*' And him, no'.v I have found the prize I fought j 
 L And
 
 <v And finding loft, I haften to rejoin ; 
 
 " Vengeance and glory call me." At the word, 
 
 Not fiercer does the Tigrefs quit her cave 570 
 
 To feize the hinds that robb'd her of her young, 
 
 Than he the bower. " Stay, I conjure thee, ftay," 
 
 ALCANDER cry'd, but ere the v.-ord was fpoke 
 
 CLEON was feen no more. " Then be it fo," 
 
 The youth continu'd, clafpjng to his heart 575 
 
 The beauteous corfe, and fmiling as he fpoke, 
 
 (Yet fuch a fmile as far out-forrows tears) 
 
 *' Now thou art mine entirely Now no more 
 
 " Shall duty dare difturb us Love alone 
 
 " But hark! he comes again Away,vain fear! 580 
 
 " 'Twas but the flattering of thy feather'd flock. 
 
 " True to their cuflom'd hour, behold they troop 
 
 t( From ifland, grove, and lake. Arife, my Love, 
 
 " Extend thy hand I lift it, but it fa'ls. 
 
 " Hence then, fond fools, and pine ! NERINA'S 
 
 *' hand 585 
 
 " Has loft the power to feed you. H:nce and 
 
 " die." 
 
 Thus plaining, to his lips the icy palm 
 He lifted, and with ard:nt paflion kift ; 
 Then cry'd in agony, " on this dear hcni, 
 '* Once tremblingly alive to Love's foft :o .ich, 590 
 
 " I hop'd
 
 C 
 
 r I hop'd to feal my faith :" This thought awak'd 
 Another fad foliloquy, which they, 
 Whoe'er have lov'd', will from their hearts fupphv 
 And they who- have not will but h:ar and [mile. 
 
 And let them fmile, but let the (corners learn 59 r 
 There is a folemn luxury in grief 
 Which they (hall never tafte ; well known- to 
 
 thofe,. 
 
 And only thofe, in Solitude's deep gloom 
 Who heave the figh fincerely : Fancy there 
 Waits the fit moment j and, when Time has 
 
 calm'd 6o 
 
 The firft o'erwhelming tempeft of their woe, 
 Piteous fhe fteais upon the mourner's breail 
 Her precious balm to fhed : Oh, it has power,. 
 Has magic power to foften and to footh, 
 Thus duly minifler'd. ALCANDER felt 605 
 
 The charm, yet not till many a ling'ring moon 
 Had hung upon her zenith o'er his couch, 
 And heard his midnight wailings. Does he flray 
 But near the fated temple, or the bower ? 
 .He feels a chilly monitor within, 610 
 
 Who bids him paufe. Does he at diftance view 
 His grot? 'tis darken'd with NERINA'S ftorm, 
 Ey'n at the blaze of noon. Yet there are- walks 
 
 L a - The
 
 C J4 ) 
 
 The loft one never trod ; and there are feats 
 Where he was never happy by her f.de, 615 
 
 And thefe he ftill can fight in. Here at length, 
 As if by chance, kind Fancy brought her aid, 
 When wand'ring thro' a grove of fable yew, 
 Rais'd by his anceflors : their Sabbath-path 
 Led thro' its gloom, what time too dark a iloic 620 
 Was o'er Religion's decent features drawn 
 By Puritanic zeal. Long had their boughs 
 Forgot the fbeers ; the fpire, the holy ground 
 They baniih'd by their umbrage. " What if here,'* 
 Cry'd the fweet Soother, in a whifper fort, 625 
 f( Some open fpace were form'd, where other 
 
 " {hades, 
 
 " Yet all of folemn fort, Cyprefs and Bay 
 " Funereal, penfive Birch its languid arms 
 " That droops, with waving Willows deem'd to 
 
 "' weep, 
 
 ee Andfhiv'ring Afpcns mixt their varied green ; 630 
 " What if yon trunk, fhorn of its murky creft, 
 *' Reveal'd the facred Fane ?" ALC AND ER heard 
 The Charmer ; ev'ry accent feem'd his own, 
 So much they"touch'd his heart's fad unifon. 
 '.' Yes^-es/'hecry'd, " Why not behold itall? 635 
 " That bough remov'd fhews me the very vault 
 " Where. my NERINA flceps, and where, when 
 
 " Heav'n 
 
 " In
 
 C IT 5 ) 
 
 In pity to my plaint the mandate feals, 
 
 My duft with her's jfliall mingle." Now hi* 
 
 hinds, 
 
 Call'd to the talk, their willing axes wield ; 640 
 Joyful to fee, as witlefs of the caufe, 
 Their much-lov'd Lord his fylvan arts refume. 
 And next, within the centre of the gloom, 
 A fhed of twifling roots and living mofs, 
 With rufhes thatch'd, with wattled oziers lin'd, 645" 
 He bids them raife * : it feem'd a Hermit's cell j 
 Yet void of hour-glafs, fcull, and maple dilh, 
 Its mimic garniture : ALCANDER^S tafte 
 Difdains to trick with emblematic toys . 
 The place where He and Melancholy mean 650 
 To fix NERINA'S buft, her genuine buft, 
 The model of the marble.. There he hides, 
 Clofe as a Mifer's gold, the fculptur'd clay ; , 
 And but at early morn and latefl eve 
 Unlocks the fimple fhrin-, and heaves a figh ; 655 
 Then dots he turn, . and . thro' the glimm'j-ing 
 
 glade 
 
 Cafl a long glance upon her houfe of death ;- 
 Then views the bull again, and drops a tear.. 
 Is this idolatry, ye fage ones, fay ? ; 
 Or, if ye doubt, go view the num'rous train 660 
 L 3 . Of. 
 
 < Ver. 64$, Note XXXVI I.
 
 Of poor and fatherlefs his care confoles > 
 The light will tdl thee, he that dries their tears 
 Has unfeen angels hov'ring o'er his head, 
 Who leave their heav'n to fee him fhed his own. 
 
 Here clofe we, fweet SIMPLICITY ! the tale, 665 
 And with it let us yield to youthful bards 
 That Dorian reed we but awak'd to voice 
 When Fancy prompted, and when Lei fure fmil'd ; 
 Hopelefs of general praife, and well repaid, 
 If they of claffic ear, unpall'd by rhyme, 670 
 Whom changeful paufe can pleafe, and numbers 
 
 free, 
 
 Accept our fong with candour. They perchance, 
 Led by the Mufe to folitude and lhade, 
 May turn that Art we fing to foothing ufe, 
 At this ili-omen'd hour, when Rapine rides 675 
 In titled triumph ; when Corruption waves 
 Her banners broadly in the face of day, 
 And fhev.-s th' indignant world the hoft of flavcs 
 She turns from Honour's ftandard. Patient there, 
 Yet not defponding, (half the fons of Peace 680 
 Await the day, when, fmarting with his wrongs, 
 Old England's Genius wakes ; when with him 
 
 wakes 
 That plain Integrity, Contempt of gold, 
 
 Difdairt
 
 Difdain of flav'ry, liberal Awe of rule 
 
 Which fixt the rights of People, Peers, and Prince, 
 
 And on them founded the majeft'ic pile 686 
 
 Of BRITISH FREEDOM ; bade fair ALBION rife 
 
 The fcourge of tyrants : fovereign of the feas ; 
 
 And arbitrefs of empires. Oh return,, 
 
 Ye long-loft train of Virtues ! fwift return 690 
 
 To fave ('tis ALBION prompts your Poet's prayer) 
 
 Her Throne, her Altars, and her laureat Bowers. 
 
 THE END.
 
 COMMENTARY 
 
 AND 
 
 NOTES.
 
 COMMENTARY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 FIRST BOOK. 
 
 VJ A R D E N I K G imparts to rural fcenery 
 ivhat a noble and graceful deportment confers 
 upon the human Frame : It is not an imitative 
 Art, it is rrore, it is an endeavour to beflow on 
 each individual Reality, thofe b;autics which 
 judicious imitation would fele>51 rro:n many, and 
 combine in one fictitious Reprefent iticn. That 
 the Son of Achilles was as much inferior in pcr- 
 fon to his Father, as the mofl: perfect human 
 forms are to the fined Statues, is the declara- 
 tion of the fldlful Philoiiratus; and amounts 
 to a full acknowledgment of the inferiority of 
 individual Nature to felective Art. If, there- 
 fore, by any means the original can be brought 
 under the obedience of thole Laws, by which 
 fhe is imitated tD ad/:ltigc, ?,n Art is t'icn de- 
 vifed as much fuperior to thofe '.vhich merely 
 
 deal
 
 ( 122 ) 
 
 deal in imitation, as motion and reality arefupe* 
 fior to fi&ion and inanimate fcft : It is only in 
 right of their conftitution and laws that the imi- 
 tative arts are intitfed to any preference; but 
 thefe are no\v transferred and fet over a more 
 noble dominion. ; A) 
 
 To- eftablifh their empire, and pronounce 
 their decrees in the Province of Landscape, is 
 the purpofe of the foregoing Poem ; to mark 
 the connexion, to point out the principles, and 
 fomctimes to extend the application of the pre- 
 cepts delivered by the Poet, is the purpofe of 
 this Commentary : it was written original! y in 
 -Jth<f- ma-gin of the Poem, and has been fo for- 
 tunate as not only to receive approbation, but 
 actually now to appear before the world, under 
 the fanction of its Author. Thus honoured, it 
 is little felicitous concerning the reception it 
 may there meet with : For mould it even coir.e 
 fhort of the favourable expectations he has been 
 p-leafed td entertain, and fail to promote the 
 delightful Art it isdeiigned to ferve, one private 
 End, at leaft, muft ftill be anfweretl, and ;nv 
 beft Pride will receive itsample fatisfaclion from 
 feeing ray name thus publickly conn.ck-d v/ith 
 that of Mr. Mafon. 
 
 From
 
 From what is here faid, it is obvious that the 
 poetical merits of the Engiifti Georgic are not 
 under my confideration ; it will be inferred, per- 
 haps, that I am precluded from giving an-pini- 
 bn on that head ; I am fo : Yet why have I ftudi- 
 Dufly considered and noted the Poem ? The ne- 
 ceffary anfwertothisqueftion will give my judg- 
 ment; in terms very general, I grant ; but thus 
 alone, by leaving it for others to draw the infe- 
 rence, I am enabled to evade the prohibition I 
 am under. 
 
 I confefs that the fubjet alfo, exclufive of 
 the manner in which it has been treated, has 
 charms forme fufficient to engage my attention: 
 If Reafon has her Sports, they are woithy the 
 purfuit of Reafon ; and I am far from concurring 
 with the mathematical Reader of Virgil, who, 
 having perufed the /Encid, laid down the boo 1 ", 
 and then cont^mptuoufly pronounced that it 
 might, perhaps, be very good; but for his part 
 he could not fee the ufe of it, becaufe, forfooth 
 it proved nothing. 
 
 In the clafs with this fentence we nrafl alfo 
 
 rank the furlyand Tullcn fpeculation which would 
 
 in.'in.iatj reflections on an Art th-t fuccefcf jll/. 
 
 M tnler-
 
 undertakes to embellifh and render Nature un'n 
 verfally lovely. To extinguifh the fined FacuH 
 ly of the human Mind, or pervert the Natural 
 Taftefor the Pleafures thence derived, will not, 
 I truft, however arrogantly claimed, be gener- 
 ally considered as the Bufinefs of Reafon ; and 
 therefore we are contained to account for the 
 favage and cynical cenfures which would de- 
 prive us of the delight of Poetry and Gardening, 
 by referring them to an abfolute ignorance of 
 the refpective Subjects, and a total defect of 
 the Imagination. 
 
 But it is fo far from being the true Bufinefs of 
 Reafon to degrade, that to cultivate and enlarge 
 the Imagination is, perchance 1 , the happieft fruit 
 of- her genuine refearches. It is by means of 
 thisfenfe of the intellect that our convictions, in 
 a thoufand inftances, become our pleafures ; and 
 by facilitating the comprehenfion of remote ob- 
 jects it is that Reafon renders them the objects 
 of this Faculty ; we are thus rendered fenfible 
 of the Beauty of Holinefs, the Beauty of Vir- 
 tue, the Beauty of Syftem, and even of the 
 Beauty of Theorem ; and (hall an eafier accef- 
 (ibility derogate from our Senfe of the Beauty of 
 Nature ? When Reafon is not difgraced in thus 
 
 referring
 
 tierring her iiTues to the Imagination, lean fee 
 ao juft caufe why our educated ftnfe of Beauty 
 hould be fullenly refufed the^ full enjoyment of 
 Jhofe objects which, by the benevolent Author 
 f Nature, were originally adapted to her im- 
 mediate poffeflion. 
 
 It is not however, without forne difc-riminating 
 x>wers of the mind that the Beauties of Nature 
 ire even difce ned ; the Imagination muft be cor- 
 tct and pure to fclecl: with judgment the fcenes 
 hat are moft worthy of contemplation. And if to 
 ;njoy require an act of the cultivatedunderftand- 
 , it will not be denied that to open the fources 
 jf enjoyment, and to defign and execute, fo as to 
 e pleafure to the tafte of an improved intel lecl, 
 kmands the exertion of much g; eater powers of 
 he mind. What, for example, can be accom- 
 >liihed without a critical knowledge of the rules 
 of composition, and a vigorous fancy to forecaft 
 in each particular inftance, the future effe&s of 
 their judicious application ? Canareadyobferva- 
 tion to deleft a latent grace, and to difcern the 
 advantages it is capable of receiving from art, be 
 difpenfed with ? and can the ignorance of any 
 mechanical fcience be fuppofed in the genuine 
 Gardener, whofe occupation is a perpetual dif- 
 M 2 play
 
 play of even confummate (kill in the compreherMJ 
 five theories of Painting and Architecture ? But,; 
 referring my readei^o the Author's motto, let me$ 
 here ceafe farther f6 apologize for the liberality- 
 of an Art which He, who of all mankind befti 
 tmderftcod the true bufinefs of Reafon, has not 
 difdained to confidcr as '* the perfe&ion of clvi-- 
 llty,"or to r^nk as " the pureft of human jMea- 
 lures." 
 
 The Plan of the ENGLISH GARDEN is made 
 to correfpond with its fubje<5r, which is fingle, 
 and in which the parts, however numerous, are 
 evidently the parts of one uniform whole. The 
 practical precepts, delivered in the three latter 
 Books of the poem in like manner, are but the 
 amplifications of one fundamental and univerfal- 
 ly pervading principle, to the doctrine and efta- 
 bhfhment of which, as a common bans, the com- 
 mencing book has been accordingly afligned by 
 the Poet. 
 
 The Poem begins with an invocation to SIM- 
 PLICITY, the infeparable attendant upon genu- 
 ine Beauty and Grace, and this with much judg-^ 
 ment, becaufe the interference of Simplicity is 
 necefTary to control the natural tendency of Art, 
 
 which
 
 ( '27 ) 
 
 #hich is ever more apt to overcharge her wc-rk, 
 rhan fall fhort of the golden mean, which is the 
 >erfectionof Nature, and of every artifice to 
 imitate or adorn her. A defective Tafte, like 
 a phlegmatic difpofition, requires provocatives 
 to excite an intereft : Where the Wit of Terence 
 Addifon would fail to obtain a fmile, the 
 boifterous and ribbald Jeft will be attended by 
 ;cclamations of joy ; and actual afflictions are 
 squired to extort a tear from the eye that can 
 iew the fictitious miferies of the Stage without 
 motion. In like manner it is that gaudy hues, 
 iolentcontrafts,and a furface rough with fculp- 
 ture and fluttering projections, invite the admi- 
 ation of fuch^fe are blind to the Harmony of 
 colouring, the tender varieties, of light and fha- 
 dow, the graces of well-poifed difpofition, and 
 the majeftic dignity of juft proportion : And 
 from the fame principle, it is probable, that the 
 formal magnificence of our antient gardens 
 would, on a companion, find a more general 
 fuffrage than the delicious domeftic fcenes 
 which are pecul'ar to cur day : for the fump- 
 tuous Art, which obliterates what it fhould only 
 adorn, and thus obtrudes itfelf alone upon the 
 e) r e, folicits the vulgar, and will thence obtain 
 M 3 a prefer-
 
 ( 1*3 ) 
 
 a preference to that which' modeftly miniilringj 
 to Nature, fets forward only her charms and' 
 withdraws itfelf from obfervation. To correct 
 and ftrengthen the judgment, and confequently 
 to reform this vicious tafte, is the great purpofc 
 of the Poet ; and while he is about to teach, he. 
 feeks to place the Conduct of his Poem under, 
 the fame juft refleclions that he prefcribes to the 
 kindred Art which forms its fubjecl. -That 
 fweet Simplicity which fhou'd thus preiide in 
 every art, is excellently defcribed by Quintilian : 
 tf Quendam purum, qualis etiarn in feminis 
 tf amatur, ornatum habet ; & fut quredam- 
 te velut e tenui diligentia circa proprietatem 
 " fignificationemque munditi^ Alia copia 
 *' locupks, alia f.oribus Iseta ; virium non 
 " unum genus, nam quicqaid in fuo genere far 
 " t!s efTecium eft val-t." Injlitut. lib. viii. 
 
 The affiilance of the two filler mufes of Poetry 
 ' and Painting, is likewife invoked to promote a 
 kindred Art, an Art in which the attributes oJ 
 both are engaged : For that Tafle which is re- 
 quired either to enjoy, to d^fign, or critically tc 
 indruci in the .means to deii^n the beauties ol 
 fcenery, muft refult from an union of the Poet's 
 delicate feelings, a*nd the Painter's praclifec
 
 ( 129 ) 
 
 judgment to felecl the objects by which they are 
 beft excited. Ever fmce the days of Simonides, 
 who declared Painting to be filent Poetry, and- 
 Poetry to be fpeaking Picture, Critics of all ranks 
 and fizes have touched, and fome have even 
 extenfively expatiated upon the affinity of thefc' 
 two Arts. To prove that Gardening is of their 
 fifterhood, it might be enough to fay, that fhe 
 makes her addrefs to the fame mental fource of 
 Pleafure, and fo rank the whole doctrine under 
 the equally acknowledged aflertion of Antquity, 
 that all the Arts are of one family. Gardening, 
 I grant, has heretofore in a manner withdrawn 
 herfelf from her relations ; for while Nature gave 
 laws to thefe, and feemed to prefide over thei? 
 friendly fociety, fhe alone refufed to comply 
 with the dictates which, if poffible, more nearly 
 concerned her than the reft. A vigorous ima- 
 gination, with a correct judgment, were the 
 qualifications which all her fillers fought for in 
 their votaries ; while fl.e, with a wayward o'j- 
 ftinacy, addicted herftlf to the tailelefs minions 
 of Fortune, and o:ily required that her woers 
 fhouid be endowed with Wealth. What wond&r 
 then that fhe has been put down from her flation, 
 and that her claim to be numbered among the 
 
 liberal
 
 liberal Arts has not been univerfally acknow- 
 ledged ? But having now become fenfible of her 
 own depravity, reformed her errors, and placed 
 herfelf under the direction of Nature ; having 
 lent her whole attention to the laws by which 
 the family is governed; and taken the rules of 
 her prefent and future conduct from them ; her 
 pretenfions are no longer problematical: (he 
 aflumes a dignity that renders her worthy of 
 the rank to which fhe is reftored ; has become a 
 favourite in the Train of Nature, the common 
 Miftrefs of them all ; and Painting, who has 
 chiefly faken her under tuition, like the Precep- 
 tor of Scipio, declares, that while ihe imparts, 
 flie derives inflrutien from her ready Pupil. 
 
 Having thus, in the poetical mode of invocati- 
 on, generally intimated the qualifications that 
 are equally requifite in the ' Pupil of his Song' 
 as in the precepts which teach his An, after a 
 few epifodical lines, upon which, for the reafon 
 already afligned, I feel niyfelf with much regret 
 precluded from expatiating, the Poet, addrefiing 
 himfelf to fuch of the Youth of England as are 
 enabled by the means of a fufficient fortune and 
 an unvitiated Tafte of Beauty to carry his lefTons 
 into execution, titles into his fubjeci with an 
 
 affurance
 
 all u ranee to fo many of them as are in pijrfuit r-. 
 of claflical knowledge, that the Art of Gardening "~~ 
 was unknown to antient Rome ; and to fuch as 61 
 (vifit the Continent, that it is not even now to be 
 learned in the detail by travel into modern Italy ; 6$ 
 but that foreign countries, and particularly that 
 of Italy will, notwithstanding, contribute natu- 
 ral beauties adapted to improve or form the tafte, 
 and afford fcenes well worthy of our imitation. 
 TKefe, however, we are in&ructed, not indif- 7* 
 criminately, or too ambitioufly to aim at adopt- 
 ing, for this important reafon, (which is the firft 8 3 
 general precept laid down) that every effort to 
 improve the fcenery muft correfpond with the 
 original nature of the place, or elfe mofl certainly 
 prove abortive. (B) 
 
 But although objects which are inapplicable ** 
 be thus profcribed, it does not t 1 erefore follow 
 that we (hould defpair of giving beauty to any 
 fpot however fecmingly defective ; for the feeds 
 of grace are univerfally diffeminated ; and 
 though we cannot any where* raife fuch as are 
 foreign from the foil, and as it were exotic ; I0 * 
 yet fuch as are indigenous will rife,, and attain 
 to their full maturity and perfection under the >j 
 cultivation of Induf.ry and Taile. The very 
 
 Heath,
 
 C '32 ) 
 
 *""" Heatji, for example, of all things apparently 
 the leaft fufceptible of a pi&urefque appearance, 
 may be fertilized, and receive a chearful afpet 
 
 : from the hand of toil ; and tafte fucceeding to 
 this may carry the work fo much farther as to 
 beftow upon it even beauty and grace : but as 
 the foil muft be reclaimed, in order to its afford- 
 ing the materials of verdure and foliage to Tafte, 
 it is evident here that la-bour muft go before ; 
 while in the improvement of the dank Vale, 
 
 114 which affords another inftance of their united 
 powers, it is equally evident that Tafte muft 
 take the lead, and precede, or at leaft conduct 
 
 x i3 the works of Labour ; for if not, the waters may- 
 be drawn off by the ftraighteft, as being the 
 fliortefl lines ; and thefe again be fo placed as to 
 form angular interfec~tions : Whereas Tafte be- 
 ing at once poflefled of her materials here, will 
 prefcribe that bed or channel in which they may 
 fpread or run in the mod beautiful manner ; and 
 hence it is that Labour muft, in this and fimi- 
 lar cafes, be the attendant inftead of the harbin- 
 ger of Tafte. 
 
 And here the valley thus improved is defcrib- 
 
 129 ed ; the beauties which Nature has contributed, 
 
 and the correfponding charms which Fancy has 
 
 befto-.ved,
 
 ( 133 ) 
 
 beftowed, are peculiarized: Time Is fuppofed fr * r - 
 to have imparted maturity to its groves, and 
 ripened all its beauties to the precife idea of the 
 Planter, and it is accordingly found altogether 
 fuited to contemplation, and the pleafures of 150 
 fecluiion and learned retirement : The cave, the 153 
 rill, and the lhadowy gladt, adapt it to the Poet ; 160 
 its copious vegetation, and numerous infect 
 inhabitants to the Naturalift ; while, from the 164 
 general difpofition of its wood and water, and 
 the accidents of light, which its various parts are 
 formed to catch, the Painter may derive improve-- 
 ment to his Art. But it is not for the mere plea- 
 fure of dwelling on the lovely fcene that the Poet 
 has thus minutely defcribed its parts ; he had 
 another view, and has accordingly made his 
 defcription the conveyance of an important cen- i^ 
 fure on that indifcriminating zeal for profpect 
 which requi es and is only delighted with the 
 extent of unfelected objects ; and alfo an exem- 
 plification of this doctrine, that a fingle fcene, , 7J 
 though not comprehending diftanccs, may yet, 
 by a ju'dicious difpofhion of light and fhadow/ 
 be put into pofTeffion of fufficient variety to ren- 
 der a landfcape, thus formed merely of a fore- 
 ground, complete and perfect within itfelf. 
 
 If
 
 y f' If then it apprars that Fancy be of fuch power 
 
 , 79 as thus to give charms to relu&ant* Nature, it 
 follows that we fhould exert ourfelves to im- 
 prove this faculty ; and to this end it is laid down 
 as a maxim, that we mould confult the laws by 
 which Painting is governed, and apply them to 
 
 1 S 4 the fifter Art of Gardening. But of thefe, the firft 
 is to make a happy fele&ion of objects for the 
 pencil ; and therefore, as greatnefs of parts, 
 a receding gradation of hues and limiting out-- 
 lines, and three diftances, marked each with 
 their refpedive characters, and bearing to each 
 other a due proportion, are the objects of the 
 
 , 53 Painter's choice, fo, if they can be attained, 
 they are recommended to the Gardener as the 
 mofl dcfirable fcenery for the exerci'e of his 
 imagination and his art. 
 
 $8 But of thefe three diftances, fuppofing them 
 poflefled, the foreground is that part which is 
 ufually mofl: at the difpofal of a proprietor, and is 
 confequently of the highefl importance. Where- 
 ever a Man (lands the contiguous object* imme- 
 diately before him form a fo'eground to the fcene 
 he is looking at ; and by the foreground how 
 much the general profpeft is affected, there are 
 few who delight in landfcape that have not per- 
 ceived.
 
 ( 135 ) 
 
 ceived. The general harmony of a fcene refults ^ ffi - 
 from a due proportion of its parts ; but the great- 
 er diftances are feldom within the power of 
 
 rt : How then fhall art, thus limited in the 
 extent of her dominion, attempt to harmonize 
 the whole fcene ? To this lanfwer, by a judicious 
 adaption and difpofition of the obje&s through 
 which the eye beholds it. A path isaferiesof '58 
 brcgrounds ; and to adapt each part of this to 
 :he various combinations of the diftant objects 
 which always refult from change of place or 
 afpeft, is the proper bufinefs of art. The effecl: 
 of afpe6t on a fcene, and the pleafure arifing 
 
 rom an agreeable feries of foregrounds, muft be 
 ftrongly felt by fuch as fail upon a fine river be- 
 tween beautiful banks : by this means we always, 
 as it were, carry Water with us, and render it a 
 permanent ingredient in a continually changing 
 landfcape. The means then prefcribcd for ob- 
 taining a fimilar permanency in a beautiful fore- 
 ground are the direction of tfye path from which 
 the general fcenery is to be viewed ;^ a fele&ion acj 
 of well-adapted greens which fhall contrail or 
 mix their colouring into it ;- r uch interrupt!- 2-5 
 ons as may frequently give the charm of renewal 
 to what we had been for a time deprived of; the i7 
 abfolutcly unintervening foliage of ihrubbery 
 N beneath
 
 - beneath the eye ; and the ftiade of foreft fo- 
 liage above it ; In which latter cafe the befti 
 portions of the. diftant fcene may be feleted,: 
 and beheld from between the ftems of the trees, 
 which fliould be fo fituated as fometimes by af-j 
 fording lateral limits to reduce the view even 
 to the ftri&eft rules of composition ; and thus 
 from the varieties of the foreground the general 
 fcene is alfo perpetually varkd. 
 
 But as there are many who are not fenfiMe of 
 the beauty of this laft feature in a foreground, 
 and hence might too haftily think of removing 
 every forefl-tree in front, as only an interruption 
 to the fcene, a caution is fuggeftcd againft fuch 
 a practice: to prove its neceffity, the pi&urefcue 
 principle is reforted to, and exemplified in the 
 wooded foregrounds of Claude Lorrain and G. 
 Pouffin; and, as from thefe it would be impof- 
 fible to retrench even a fmgle bough without an 
 injury to the genejral compoiition oTthe fcene, fo 
 Nature is faid to fuffer a fimilar injury if her 
 foregrounds are injudicioufly deprived of their 
 fhade. And as, again, the fame defective tafte 
 which would thus ftrip the foreground where 
 trees are an important feature, if pofiefTcd of 
 power to reach the diftances, might there be 
 
 induced
 
 ( '37 ) 
 
 induced to plant in fuch a manner as to give J^_ 
 them no importance whatever ; to counteract 
 the uniform op .ration of aerial perfpeaive, by 
 fpotting the remote hills with little circumfcribed 
 clumps of dark fofiage ; and to interfeft by angu- 
 lar fences what is formed to pleafe on I/ by the fin- 
 glenefs and majefty of the whob,the pldurcfquc 
 principle, v/ith which the general rules rcfped- 
 ing foregrounds are here concluded, is made 
 the means of commencing a new fubjecl:, and is 125 
 accordingly extended to the diftant fcenes, and 
 in this cafe exemplified in the diftances of Salva- 
 tor Rofa ; for as it would be impofilble, among 
 the fublime objects of which thefe, for the mod 
 part, confitt, without abfolutely fub verting the 
 dignity of his whole compofition, to introduce 
 the petty contracts refulting from deep ihadowed, 
 but narrowly limited plantations, fo Nature is 
 faid to fuffer a fimilar injury, if minute inclo- 
 fures and formal foliage be allowed to difturb the 
 awful tranquility of her more majeftic fcenes. 
 And the reafon is obvious : the whole fhould be 
 viewed together and not in parts, which would, 
 on account of their remote fituation, very dif- 
 tinclly fhew their extremities to the eye ; where- 
 as in the foreground, neighbourhood intirely 
 precludes the poffibility of this effect. 
 
 Na The
 
 ( 138 ) 
 
 *' er ' The end and fpirit of this precept then being 
 to preferve proportion and harmony in the rela- 
 tive extent and colouring of thofe parts which 
 enter into the compofition of the diftant fcencry, 
 it will clearly follow that no broad and fober 
 contrails are precluded by the prohibition. Of 
 nearer obje6h Nature defines with accuracy at 
 once the outline and the fhadow ; but lofing at a 
 diftance the intenfenefs of both, (he exhibits 
 them with blended and doubtoit extremities j 
 
 315 4^ke twilight (he diminifhes their oppofition, and 
 consequently exclaims againft whatever fhould 
 attempt to give it an unadapted ftrength : hence 
 dark patches of iH-confortcd wood, which rather 
 feem to ftick out from, than coinpofe a part of, 
 the fcene, are her abhorrence. But it is not 
 therefore a woody diftance that is obnoxious ei- 
 ther to Her or her Poet; on the contrary, he 
 inculcates this farther doctrine, that extenfivc 
 cfothing will be productive of the fame uniform 
 and fimple greatnefs as extent of any other cha- 
 racter whatfoever; but he afcertains its manner 
 of application, and inftru&s us in'thefe cafes to 
 give a foreit extent of wood te diftances even the 
 cxtrcmeft, and unite them all by one uninter- 
 rupted length of foliage. But extent and conti- 
 nuity are infifted on as indifpenfable here j for 
 
 as
 
 ( 139 ) 
 
 is in the fublime ferocity of the fcenes, lad con- rer - 
 Gdcred, no little additions were admitted to in- 
 crrupt the general union ; fo where the charac- 
 :er of the diftance is foreft extent, for the fame 
 reafon, little intermiffions are equally precluded. 
 For as clumps and acute divisions are there faid 5 
 :o form a difproportionate contraft, fo here the 
 eery fame defect would refult from formal extre- 
 mities or circumfcribed interruptions of wood, 
 when oppofcd to the general hue of the foliage. 
 And here the particular foliage, by which this 4 g 3 
 great effect is beft obtained, is fpecified, and the 
 Oak, the Elm, and the Chefnut are recommend- 253 
 ed to the Planter ; their hues are fufficiently 
 fimilar, and consequently that fpecies of Variety 
 alone, which is naturally incident to diftances, 
 is aimed at. No fictitious protuberances are af- 
 fcdcd by the means of paler verdure, nor, al- 
 tho' the Fir be permitted, as a protection to the 
 other trees, to afTord a temporary (hade, are fud- 
 d^n, and therefore incongruous, breaks fought 
 after by the admiffion of darker greens ; the 
 fcene is left to obtain its variety from the effects 
 of light upon its furface ; and thefe, let no man 
 doubt, will be furficlent for his purpofe : for 
 from the undu'ating form of this the light and 
 vvil; borrow not only extent and breadth, 
 N 3 but
 
 ( HO ) 
 
 r * r - but foft and uncertain limits; and even that 
 diverfity of colour which is thus judicioufly de- 
 clined by art, will be amply repaid by the ordi- 
 nary accidents refulting from the viciflitudcs of 
 weather, and the feveral feafons of the day. 
 
 a $ 4 Thus then we fee the piclurefque principle 
 exemplified and applied to the living fcenery of 
 Nature ; but we are not for this reafon to con- 
 ceive that Nature is thus rendered fubfervient to 
 an Art over which fhe has not herielf previoufly 
 prefided ; for though fhe may not in every portion 
 of her works have exhibited the full perfection 
 
 4$4 of beauty, yet in fome fhe probably has ; and 
 though, wherever thefe lovely features occur, 
 fhe may not in every inftance have combined 
 them to the greateft poffible advantage ; yet in 
 fome fhe has certainly difplayed the charms of 
 harmonious compofition. Had fhe done this 
 univerfally, or where fhe has' done it, were it 
 the talent of every man to obferveand to gene- 
 ralize the principle on which fhe has proceeded, 
 it would be unneceffary here to call in the aid of 
 an imitative Art ; but when to thofe alone who 
 have cultivated this, the fkill to feled and re- 
 combine the beauties of Nature, has been here- 
 tofore in a manner confined, to thole it cannot 
 
 be
 
 ( HI ) 
 
 be deemed unreafonable to refer the Gardener V'r* 
 : or imtru&ion in the conduct of his own art. 
 To grace and adorn the perfon of the great ori- 
 inal herfelf is his pleafing province ; and furely 
 He is the moil likely to fucceedin the difcharge 
 of this duty, who mod diligently inveftigatesthe 
 principles on which fhe has already been imitated 
 with the happieft fuccefs. From thofe then who, 
 with the higheft Tafte and moft difcriminating 
 powers of fele&ion, have transferred the beau- 
 ties of Nature to the canvas, we may, without 
 derogation, fubmit to receive inftru&ion, and 
 learn ourfelves to fele&, to digeft, and to 
 difpofe our fuperior materials, according to 
 rules of compofition that have been primarily ago 
 didatedby herfelf. 
 
 It is not, therefore, by declining the ftudy of OQ 
 Nature, that we are deiired to aim at attaining 
 that abftract Idea of Beauty to which we fhould 
 for ever refer our defigns and works, but by 
 ftadying her through the medium of an Art 
 which, upon her own principles, has combined 
 and improved her features; thus we are afcer- 
 tained of fuccefs, and having once got poifeflion 
 of this general archetype, we fee every fpecies 
 of littlenjfs fly before it; every fymptom of 3 , t 
 
 mechan-
 
 Ver - mcchanifm withdraws, and every trace of geo- 
 metric order is obliterated ; the Angle declines 
 into the waving Curve, and parts, before acutely 
 divided, now melt into each other with foft and 
 eafy transitions. 
 
 3 l8 And fuch a transition the Poet may be faid to- 
 have here exemplified in his own method. We 
 had before been inftru&ed how far the Powers of 
 Fancy were able to contend with the difficulties 
 darted by Nature herfelf, and to remove what 
 appeared to be even deformity; and now from a 
 general rule, in which his abhorrence of mecha- 
 nick order is inculcated, we are carried to the 
 consideration of her equal powers to reform the 
 
 ^ t4 abfurdities introduced by antecedent Art. The 
 right lined Vifta confequently, however fanctifi- 
 cd by time or circumftance, is condemned to fall, 
 
 , z g while only fuch of its trees as can furvive remov- 
 
 356 al, or fuch as by concealment of their line, may 
 plead for mere'-, can hope to avert the ftroke of 
 the Axe : from thefe few, however, a coniid,;r- 
 
 541 able effect is nromikd; and thus Art, in con- 
 currence with Nature, and a&inj only as her 
 handmaid, is feen reftoring to Beauty Scenes, 
 which, without that concurrence, flic had her- 
 felf previoufly deformed. (C) 
 
 We
 
 We have now feen the picturefque principte rer. 
 eftablifhed, and we have traced its operations in 
 the improvement of defective -Nature, and the 
 reformation of erroneous Art. We have feen it 
 alfo more agreeably occupied in felecting, height- 
 ening, and arranging the Features of an exten- 
 five*Landfcape originally beautiful: we are 
 now to contemplate its effect upon the only fpe- 
 cies of rural view that has not yet been brought 
 under its direction : But in this infiance the 
 precept is Caution; and fo very tenderlyjs Art 
 permitted to touch the almofl-finifhed work of 
 Nature, that its interference feems rather to be 
 prohibited than invited her?. If indeed ^ feen?. 
 fall fhortof the Poet's defcription, and yet confift 
 of parts that are capable of being rendered con- 
 formable to it, it is then the delightful office of 
 Art to break new ground, and for the firft time 
 to enter into the ftiadowy wild, which bears no 34 g 
 mark of ever having heretofore been invaded by 
 the hand of man : but here good Tafte will hold 
 facred the deep fokmnity, the filent and fohtary 
 grandeur of its dark recetfes; it will move on 
 without impre'ffing a diflinguimable veftige, and 
 will only, as it were, by ftealth admit the human 
 eye.to the enjoyment of their fecluded beauties. 
 If Time indeed, giving to oblivion every un- 35S 
 
 pleafing
 
 ( H4 ) 
 
 P* r - pleafing idea of their former defignation, has 
 handed over to Nature, and flic adopting them 
 has blended with her own offspring the antient 
 
 360 feats of tyranny and fuperftition, Fancy has little 
 more to do than to enjoy the vale, whofe woody 
 fides, forming a gloomy contraft to the rocks 
 that glitter through them, are over-hung by*the 
 majeftick Ruins of a Caftle ; or in the bottom 
 of perhaps the fame valley to contemplate the 
 more awful Remains of an Abbey ftanding on 
 the margin of a dream, by which the whole is 
 watered : For what indeed remains for her to 
 do ? If abfolute neglect has obfcured the beau- 
 tie? of the fcene, of rendered it, perhaps, m- 
 acceflible, an accefs muft be obtained, and its 
 beauties muft be retrieved from a circum (lance 
 equivalent to annihilation ; but this is the utmoft 
 that is allowed to Art, and even in the perform- 
 
 3^0 ance of thefe neccflary offices, the principal 
 attention muft be paid to the concealment and 
 difguife of its interference. Hence the Poet, 
 inftead of imparting his inftru&ion in this in- 
 flance in the form of precept, has conveyed it 
 by a defcription, and finding fo Kttle matter for 
 maxim, inftead of a leiTon, has given us an 
 archetype for our imitation. 
 
 From
 
 ( 145 ) 
 
 From the contemplation of Scenes like thefe, 
 the Poet now fuddcnly directs our obfervation to 
 the geometrical abfurdities of our antient Gar- 
 dens, and by thus artfully bringing them into 
 immediate comparifon, excites our juft indigna- 
 tion againft their unnatural and fumptuous pue- 
 rilities: Our eye, but now in the enjoyment of 
 Nature's lovclieft freeft forms, beholds, with 
 difguft, the narrow reftraints under which (he 
 has heretofore been oppreflxd. Where Art takes 
 Nature for its Archetype, Nature may herfelf 
 improve under the conduit of t'lat Art : but 
 where on the contrary its iburce is in itfelf, or 
 to be found rather in the principles than the vi- 
 fible performances of Nature, the works of 
 Art like this, are never to be adopted in her 
 domains. Painting prefents a mirrcur to h.r 
 form ; and before this fhe may drefs herfelf to 
 the improvement of her charms : but what can 
 Architecture contribute to heighten them ? 
 Having never borrowed from her it has nothing 
 to reftore ; and to become a borrower herftlf, is 
 a condefcenfion beneath the dignity of .her cha- 
 racter; and confequently, however graceful, 
 however majeftic the works of this fine Art may- 
 rife, their beauties are their own, they are peculi- 
 ar to therafelves, and in no r:fpcii applicable to 
 
 the
 
 Vtr. the forms of Nature, who will therefore fcorri 
 39Z to wear them. Boundlefs in her eafy variety flic 
 difdains the reftri&ions of the line and plum- 
 'met, and, that fubftitute for the chizzel, the 
 iheers. Yet fuch were the antient implements 
 of the Gardener; by thefe the green Arcade 
 was formed, and the dwarf vegetable trimmed 
 into the mofaic pavement of the parterre ; by 
 thefe its angular extremities and quick, Imooth 
 flope were given to the terras; by thefe the 
 winding currents of water were compelled to 
 ftagnate in ftraight canals ; and, to ufe the 
 language of an old French Writer, by thefe 
 they were effectually prevented from ever dege- 
 nerating into Rivers again. 
 
 The Hiftory of Gardening in England, from 
 the diys of Elizabeth to our own time, finds 
 here an eafy intodu&ion, it is accordingly relat- 
 ed, and hence we learn the antiquity of that 
 formal mode which has juil been condemned; 
 we alfo learn that however obflinately it held its 
 ground, it had yet in every age come under the 
 cenfure of the wife ft and moft difcerning men ; 
 4J>8 that yielding at Jail to their temonftrances and 
 ridicule, it began to give way about the com- 
 mencement of the prefent century ; and con- 
 
 fequcntly,
 
 X H7 ) 
 
 fequently, that at that period the ftyle which 
 forms the fubje& of the Poem may be faid to 
 fiave had its rife, although it has but very lately 
 attained to its perfection, To the works of 
 ihofe great Matters, therefore, who have 
 brought it to this high ftate, as before to the 
 works of the Painter, we are now referred, with 
 an earneft affurance, that by them we (hall fee 
 the principles of the Art exemplified, and from 
 the ftudy of their practice, be enabled to correct 
 our Tafte and extend our Fancy ; that by exercif- 
 ing thefe, and giving an actual exiftence to 
 whatever ideal forms and combinations we may 
 have derived from all the fources that have now 
 been laid open to us, we may beftow beauty up- 
 on even the ordinary features of natural fcenery, 
 and enter into the refined enjoyment of what- 
 ever Nature has, in this kind, created molt 
 lovely and complete. (D) 
 
 Having now brought the Commentary on the 
 Firft Book to a conclufion, and throughout en- 
 deavoured to maintain and ftrengthen the great 
 principle of rural beauty which has been pre- 
 fcribed by the Poet, I feem to hear an objection 
 flatted to the juftice of the doStrine, and to be 
 aflced in what mr.nncr the practice of the Gar- 
 O dcner,
 
 -, i 4 8 ) 
 
 dener, who, for the moft part, makes exceflivc 
 neatnefs an object in his fcenes, is to be recon- 
 ciled with that fpecies of beauty which confifts 
 in roughncfs of furface, and which appears to 
 have been always aimed at by the Painter of 
 Landfcapc. 
 
 To this, in the firft place, I anfwer, that the 
 objection does not affect the general compofiti- 
 on, which is ftill moulded according to the pic- 
 turefque idea.; and fecondly, that it cannot 
 affeS the diftances, which are beyond the reach 
 of any fuch fubordinate confederation. How 
 far then does it extend ? Only to the fore- 
 ground ; and even in this, not to the defign. 
 but pencilling ; for, exclufive of the furface, 
 the form may be preferved to the mofl faflidious 
 expectations of the Painter. What then remains ; 
 not the drawing of the Picture, for that is al- 
 lowed to be correct, but jufl the manner of 
 handling that fmatt domeftic portion which lies 
 immediately beneath the eye. And, furely, 
 when it comes to be confidered, that in genera- 
 lizing a principle, and applying it to a new fub- 
 jecr,, fome variety mull always reiult from the 
 application; and this not from any mutability 
 of the principle itfelf, but from the divcrfity of 
 
 the
 
 ( H9 ) 
 
 the objects with which it is combined, a variety 
 fo extremely trivial, can hardly be admitted as 
 an objection to the intoduttion of the pi<5tu- 
 refque principle into the Art of Gardening ; it 
 falls before this felf-evident proportion, that a 
 rural fcene in reality, and a rural fcene upon 
 canvas,, are not preeifely one and the fame 
 thing. 
 
 But that point, in which they differ here, is 
 not itfelf without a guiding principle : Utility 
 fets up her claim, and declares, that however 
 concurrent the genuine Beauty of Nature and 
 Picture may be,, the Garden Scene is hers, and 
 mufl be rendered conformable to the purpofes of 
 human life ;. if to thefe every confonant charm 
 of painting be added, flic is pleafed ; but by no 
 means fatisfied, if that which is convertible to 
 ufe be given abfolutely to wildnefs. The Wild- 
 nefs of Nature, therefore, is irretrievably fet 
 afiie, and, confequently, it is only that k'nJ of 
 beauty which wears the {tamp of human inter- 
 ference that can be cultivated here. Admit that 
 defert Nature is bed arrayed in the rough garb 
 which painting chufes to imitate; ytt in the 
 En^lifh Garden, even in her very finefl fcenery, 
 it is not deferable to preferve her in fuch a taftc 
 
 02 Of
 
 { ISO. ) 
 
 ef ufelefe purity, that it fhall appear as if no? 
 human footftep had even trod the ground. The 
 prefence of the manfion muft for ever refute tho 
 fuppolition. Neatnefs muft, confequently, fu- 
 perfede this favage air, for meer flovenly ac- 
 commodation is of all defects, the moft difguft- 
 ing, it is a mean between wildnefs and cultivati- 
 on, which makes each deftructive of the other,. 
 and confequently, inftead of being both, is 
 really neither. To neatnefs, therefore, the fur- 
 face of the foreground muft be given ; the claims 
 of utility muft be complied with, for the rude 
 nefs of Nature is precluded, and this alone 
 remains : but even from this no fmall fhare of 
 pi&urcfque beauty may be made to arife, amfe 
 fmoothnefs itfelf, if thus the means and reafons 
 of creating it appear, and that the fhaven 
 Lawn be feen covered with the flocks which have 
 been the inftruments of its po'ifh, will be found 
 in a very extenfive degree to conform to the 
 principle originally prefcribed. But I will now 
 go even further, and aver, that it altogether 
 conforms : The Arts which imitate Nature are 
 neceflarily defective in one point, they cannot 
 imitate her motion ; and hence they are driven 
 tofcek forfome fubftitute that maybe produc- 
 tive of the fame effect. A roaghnefs of furface
 
 is produced by quick contrafts of contiguous 
 Light and Shade, which refulting in the ap- 
 pearance of frequent projection and retirement, 
 the Eye, by the rapid fuceflion of thefe, is af- 
 fected in exactly the fame manner as if the parts 
 were actually moving before it : But is this 
 roughnefs, therefore, neccflary in Nature her- 
 felf ? It certainly is not j and the reafon is, 
 that poflefiinga real, it would be fuperfluous to 
 adopt the means by wich only a fictitious motion 
 is atchieved : the PRINCIPLES of Painting, 
 therefore, are univerfally received ; and thus 
 THE ENGLISH GARDEN, exempted from the 
 neceffity of ufing them, is found only not to 
 accept of the artificial refources of Picture. 
 
 Oj CO M-
 
 COMMENTARY 
 
 ON THE 
 SECOND BOOK. 
 
 A HE Poet having,, in the former Book, 
 3ropo(ed every general principle relating to 
 the Art of Gardening, it would have been 
 allowable for him to have laid down his pen, and 
 left his readers, in each particular inftancc, to 
 have made the application as well as they could 
 for themfelves : But reflecting on the difficulty 
 of carrying general theories into practice, he 
 has himfelf condefcended to take his Pupil by 
 the hand, and to teach him to apply his rules in 
 every portion of his fubjet He enters accor- 
 dingly in the following Books into the detail, 
 and inftruU us in the means of executing every 
 part of that great whole with which we had been 
 previoufiy made acquainted ; we have feen the 
 Picture ; we have admired the Competition ; 
 and even contemplated its greater features ; but 
 
 we
 
 C ^54 ) 
 
 er. we. are now to imitate it; we mufl, therefore* 
 defcend to fubordinate confederations j we are no 
 longer to confider the effect alone, but to en- 
 quire into the means by which it is produced ; 
 and to the fpeculative part of Gardening, 
 henceforward learn to afford the affiftance of 
 manual operation. 
 
 The regard that is due to Utility, and the 
 necefiity which fubfifts of rendering even Beau- 
 ty no more than adjunct to this in, the Englifti 
 Garden,, has been already intimated : to fome 
 reflections on the happy effects of their union 
 the prefent portion of the fubject now naturally 
 it leads the mind ; and,, accordingly, the Second 
 Book opens with an Addrefs to an Art which 
 thus benevolently turns Magnificence from the 
 cultivation of fumptuous trifles to the improve- 
 ment of that which is beneficial to mankind. 
 But here, while we attend to the precept con- 
 veyed in this apoftrophe, we muft be exceed- 
 ingly on our guard not to mifapply it, or ima- 
 gine, that by converting beautiful objects to 
 any other than their appropriate ufe, we are 
 acting under its direction :. The genuine fpirit 
 and tendency of the rule is not to turn orna- 
 ment to ufe ) it is the converfe of this, and in- 
 
 ftruds
 
 ( 155 ) 
 
 Rru&s us only to make utility the fubject of or- ?" 
 nament E). But even this law is not without 
 its liberal conftruttion : in the great it muft, 
 serhaps, be literally interpreted ; yet, Kke Poe- 
 ry, Gardening will frequently acquiefce in a- 
 i6r_ion of utility, accept of an End for a Ufe, 
 and ftamp the means which affect it, and the 
 uft adaption of the ornaments to the feeming 
 >urpofe, with the name and characters of 
 Ifruth.. 
 
 Under the authority of this general maxim 35 
 then, it is obvious that the antient formal ftylc 
 of Gardening muft ncceffarily fail : the Gar- 
 dener wiilendeavour to reftore to Nature what- 
 ever fhe has been fofcmg deprived of: but as in 
 the infancy of his art there is danger, that in 
 deftroying the right-lined difpofition of his 
 ground, he fhould, as was really the fa&, run 47 
 into the oppofite extreme, a caution is fuggefted 
 againft all exceflive and overftraincd curvatures, 
 and that eafy line, which is a mean between 51. 
 them, and which is fpontaneoufly traced in the 
 pathway of every Being that moves under the 56 
 unaffected direction of Nature, is defcribed 
 as the only legitimate fource of beauty and ge-. 
 nuine grace ; of this foft and melting curve the 
 
 application^
 
 P* r - application, we are told, muft be univerfal j 
 
 7 , and that not only the pathway, and the outline 
 
 of wood and water muft be guided by it, but 
 
 that the form of the furfacc of the ground itfelf 
 
 muft come under its direction. 
 
 But however gracefully it may flow, and 
 however confidered in itfelf, it may appear to 
 
 8t be an abfolute ftranger to geometric rules, yet 
 as all parallelifms muft thence derive their 
 fource, even this curve muft not be matched 
 with its own parallel : the greenfward, there- 
 fore, through which the pathway \vinds, muft 
 be varied in its breadth,, and the neighbouring 
 ebje&s ftand at that variety of diftance that 
 
 $g contraft may refult ; in likd manner the furface 
 of the ground ftiould be diverfified in its form ; 
 and in every instance, whether of hill, ground- 
 plan, or plantation, the idea of pairs muft be 
 diligently avoided. Without this equality the 
 balance may be fufliciently maintained, and the 
 means of preferving it are p'-efcribed. by Nature 
 herfelf j it is not by copying one feature from 
 another that {he proceeds to create a harmony of 
 parts, fhe accomplices this end with more vari- 
 ety, nor finds it even neceflary to p!ace her cor- 
 refpondencies at an equal diftance from the 
 
 point
 
 C i-57 
 
 point of view ; for to the remote Mountain {he Ver - 
 frequently oppofes the neighbouring Shade or 
 Rock, and thus fatisfies the expectations of the 
 Eye with difference and uniformity at once. 
 Hence then Art ihould derive its rules, and by 
 a like oppofition of diifimiiar objects giv poize 
 and regularity to the general Compofition of 
 her Works : the foreground is her proper dif- I0 5 
 trict, here therefore every object, whether of 
 furface or j^antation, may be formed according 
 to the Tafte of the Proprietor ; their mutual 
 adaption is, confequently, at his difpofal, and 
 he is accordingly inftructed in the manner of 
 ifuiting both their forms and hues, not only to 
 < each other, but to the diftant fcenery which is 
 beheld from among them. 
 
 But in this, and every other operation of uo 
 Art, the particular character x>f the fcene mud 
 :t>e mofl attentively confidered, and cultivation 
 afiume a manner from the fubject with which it 
 is connected ; thus the introduction of foil, fuffi- 
 cient to maintain the vegetation of foreft trees 
 among the rocky clefts, may prove the means u< 
 of removing the black and defolatcd Air of a. 
 Scene, whofe proper character is Majefly ; and 
 thus by a junction of Wood and Rock, and 
 
 thence
 
 fr"j thence a happy contrail of gloom and glitte^ 
 Dignity may be made to fuperfede a cold and 
 
 i 39 forbidding afpe&. The fwelling Hillock may- 
 be made to vary the fatiguing famenefs of the 
 Flat, while this again, oppofed by Plantations, 
 may refult in an animated and chearful Land- 
 
 ., ., fcapc ; and in like manner variety may be intro- 
 duced into the very Thicket, its uniform darknefs 
 'may be chequered by clearing away the inferi- 
 or wood, while the remaining Shade will bor- 
 row dignity from the contrafted Light that is 
 
 , st thus admitted into it; the rivulet too fliould 
 here be allowed to fparkle in the fun and affift 
 the oppofition ; and thus we fee not only the 
 balance well adjufted, but the cure that may, 
 by attention to its genius, be applied to the de- 
 feb of each particular fpecies of fcenery. 
 
 f g 9 But of all the purpofes on which the charac- 
 ter of a Scene ftiould be consulted, that is the 
 moft important which determines the mode of 
 
 159 adapting ornament to Ufe, without permitting 
 it to encroach upon the limits by which it fhou'd 
 bff reftricted ; of thefe, as we have already ob- 
 ferved, it is the bufinefs of the gardener to 
 make fuch a Union, that neither mav prove in- 
 jurious to the other ; ornament muil not in- 
 fringe
 
 fringe the ciaims of Utility, while at the fame Vtr. 
 time, it is efTential that Utility mould not for- 
 didly reject the ornament with which it is be- 
 comingly arrayed. But it is a Truth, which ex- 
 perience will fpeedily evince, that nothing is more ,51 
 difficult than to preferve the proper boundary 
 of thefe ; Pleafure in its wantonnefs would feek to 
 appropriate what fhould be deftined to more pro- 
 fitable purpofes ; and there is hardly to be found 
 a profitable Purpofe to which ground may be 
 turned, that is not likely to invade the equitable 
 claims of Pleafure; the very (heep, in their 
 browzing, thus deftroy the bloom and foliage 
 which give beauty to the Pathway that fteals 
 round their pafture. Where then is the reme^ l6 
 dy to be found ? in the Fence, alone ; AVC mud 
 afcertain their refp.ctive Limits ; we muft di- 
 vide and yet not difunit?, and the expedient is 
 as practicable as it is n:ccflary ; the Fence, by 
 winding freely, may for ever be withdrawn 1JO 
 from the eye, and the very foliage, which it 
 ferves to protect, will at every bend conceal it 
 from the view. The form of the ground, in 
 each particular in.^ancc, will in{lrut in fome 
 pc-culiar means of difguiikig the d.vif.on, but 
 in all it (hould be drawn with that bold lin-, , 7 g 
 that the t ees and fnrubbcry which adorn the 
 pathway, (hould frequently project into, and 
 P appear
 
 -( H5o ) 
 
 ' rtr - appear to blend themfelves with the field ; while 
 the field, in like manner, fhould frequently be 
 fcen to form recefles among thefe proje&ed 
 trees ; and here, when the fheep go into thefe, 
 they will feem to be uncontrolled, and the only 
 evidence to the contrary will afterwards be, 
 that nothing has been deftroyed. 
 
 *45 Having thus far fpoken of the Fence, as the 
 neceffity for its concealment, and the general 
 form of its line are concerned, the Poem now 
 enters into a more practical difcuffion of the 
 various kinds that may be reforted to, and the 
 propereft means to render them at once effectual 
 and invifible; and of thefe, the fint that is 
 recommended to our choice, is that which ;'s 
 commonly known by the name of the Sunk 
 
 a6o Fence ; by this the ground which is feen beyond 
 it, provided its manner of cultivation be any 
 tiling fimilar, appears fo intimately and conti- 
 nuoufly united with that on which we Hand 
 ourfelves, that it is almoiT: always with furnrizc 
 the divifion is discovered j and hence, as ex- 
 preffive of that pafiion, it obtained, when firft 
 
 afo invented, the name of the Ha ! Ha ! The 
 mode of conftrucling this is fpecified, and is as 
 
 265 follows : Dig deep a trench, and to the baft of the 
 
 fid;
 
 fide ffom which you look, and which muft be p ' <r ' 
 perpendicular and fronted with ftone, the op- 
 pofite fide muft be gently doped from the level 
 of the foil; the verdure of this flope muft be 
 referved, and the wall which fuftains the neigh- 
 >ouring fide, muft be covered on its top alfo 2 ~ z 
 with the green turf, a little raifed above the 
 urface of the foil. This is the ftrongeft man- 
 ner of conftrufting the Sunk Fence ; but the 
 reateft ftrength is not in every inftance necef-- 
 ary ; it may,, indeed, be requifite,. in order to 
 eftrain the Deer, but cattle of a tamer kind, Z s 4 
 will be turned without it; the perpendicularity 
 and the ftrong front of the nearer bank may, 
 therefore, be here difpenfed with, and in their a88 
 place a flope, and at midway down a row of 
 thorns, defended when young with pointed 
 pales, may be fubftituted ; but this muft be kept 
 from furmounting the level of the. Lawn, and 
 its furface made always parallel to the bank on 
 which it grows. 
 
 But the form of the furface of the ground, 30 , 
 the direction in which it is to run, and the na- 
 ture of the inconvenience to be excluded, muft, 
 in every particular cafe, determine the fort of 
 Fence that fhould be made ufe of; that which 306 
 P 2 we
 
 ^^ we have already feen is beft applied, wh'en its 
 line runs dire&ly acrofs the Eye, for in this in- 
 
 308 fiance it becomes absolutely invifible ; but on 
 the contrary it becomes, of all deformities, 
 itfclf the moft difgufting, if afcending the Hilt 
 in front, or in any other manner offering its 
 end to the view, it exhibits only a gaping inter- 
 ruption of the otherwife continuous furface : in 
 thefe cafes, therefore, we mud have recourie 
 to new expedients, and if fheep only are to be 
 excluded from the Pathway, a fufficient defence 
 againft their inroads may be obtained from nct- 
 
 3 , 9 work, or wire extended upon common flakes j 
 three rows of flronger cordage flretched between 
 ports mufl be oppofed to horfes and oxen (F); 
 
 330 but as thefe are all liable to a thoufand injuries- 
 and a fwift decay, and confequently will require 
 a troublefome degree of attention to keep them 
 
 33 S in repair, a more durable fubftitute, but chiefly 
 where the divifion is at fome little dillance, is 
 
 3j aHowed of, and for this purpofe a well-con- 
 flructed paling of wood-work is recommended j 
 but as this again might very probably obtrude 
 itfelf upon the Eye, while it is not poflib'c 
 that a fence of any kind can be an ornament, 
 we are inflrucled in the befl means of mitigating 
 
 the
 
 he neceflary evil, and preventing its becoming 
 defea. 
 
 The means then are briefly thefe ; give to your 
 aling no tawdry glare, but as near as poffible 
 ie colour of the ground againft which it is 
 een ; for thus the Eye fhall blend them toge- 
 icr, and thus the ground in a manner fhall 
 bforb the Fence. And here the poet, ftrongly 
 feeling, and wifhing to inculcate the neceflity 
 of this precept, is exceedingly particular, and 
 has left it only for me to reduce his farther in- 
 ftructions on this head, to the form of a recipe, in 
 which, however, lam obliged to omit the quan- 
 tity of each ingredient, becaufe it mufl always 
 depend upon the circumflances of the fcenery 
 in which the paint is made ufe of; take then 
 White-Lead, Oker, Blue-Black, and a pro- 
 portionably fmall quantity of Verdigreafe, and 
 making of thefe an oil paint, fpread it on the 
 paling ; the effect of this, if ufed with judge- 
 ment, will be found fully anfwerable to the mofl 
 fanguine expectations ; the limit?, as it were, 
 retire from the view, and Ufe and Beauty, 
 wh ch feemed to have fufFered a momentary 
 divorce, are now indiflinguifhably united 
 again. 
 
 Pi But
 
 But there is a Fence of which the concealment 
 is not equally neceflary, a Fence which genuine 
 tafte will even rejoice to contemplate, for of ge- 
 nuine tafte humanity is the infeparable affociate ; 
 on the children, therefore, of the labouring 
 Peafants, we are previoufly defired to confer 
 the charge of fuperintending all our boundaries, 
 and guarding them from the invafions of herds 
 and flocks ; in order to adapt them to this little 
 ftewardfhip, to change their weeds of poverty 
 for a more cleanly and comfortable attire ; and 
 arming the infant fhcpherds with the proper im- 
 plements of their pi&urefque office, to employ 
 and port them where they may be even confpi- 
 cuoufly feen. 
 
 From this benevolent precept, the Poet is 
 naturally led to coniider the blefllngs and mental 
 improvements which attend upon the active 
 occupations and the contemplative retirement 
 of the Gardener, and concludes the book with 
 an Epifode in which they arc eminently illuf- 
 trated. The fcenery of the piece is well deferv- 
 ingof our attentive observation, and the fen- 
 timent, however poetically blazoned, ftands 
 firm upon the ban's of hifloric evidence. 
 
 Cicero
 
 ( 1*5 ) 
 
 Cicero has fpoken of retirement in terms'not ve- Ver ' 
 ry different from thofe which introduce the Tale 
 of Abdalonimus : " Quis enim hoc non dederit 
 " nobis, ut cum opera noftri Patria five non 
 " poffit uti, five nolit, ad earn vitam reverta~ 
 " mur, quam multi doti homines, fortafle 
 " non re&e, fed tamen multi etiam reipublicae 
 " praeponendam putaverunt." Cic. Epift. lib. 460 
 ix. 9-pift. vi. But, furely, the Poet has fpoken 
 more decifively like a patriot than even this 
 great deliverer of his country himfelf; he has 
 not preferred fecefHon to the caufe of the pub- 
 lic; on the contrary, he has dtfcribed it as a 
 means of cultivating every talent for its fervice, 
 and a fort of watch-tower from which to look 
 out for the happy moment when they may be 
 called into action ; and in the conduct of his 
 Hero, has prefented it to us in the light of a 
 fchool, in which the leflbns of magnanimity 
 and moderation are taught ; and in which the 
 well-difpofed mind, abftra&ed from the pur- 
 fuits of the world, will learn the duty of fore- 
 going every private indulgence when the facri- 
 fice may render us the fortunate inftruments of 
 reftoring prosperity to our country, or extend- 
 ing the happii^fs of our fpecies. 
 
 I do
 
 ( 166 ) 
 
 I do not exclufively challenge for Gardening 
 the whole of thofe attributes which have been 
 by a thoufand writers afcribed to Agriculture at 
 large, any more than I fhould exclufively claim 
 to the moft perfect knowledge of architectural 
 ordonnance the entire eulogy that might be pro- 
 nounced on the art of conuru&ing habitations. 
 Without the ftately column or fretted roof the 
 Savage might receive protection from the ftorm, 
 and without the piturefque fcene the nerves of 
 labour might be braced, and the markets fup- 
 plied with the ordinary productions of the field : 
 But on the other hand, without fome portion of 
 thefe refinements, are Agriculture and Archi- 
 tecture adapted to the exercife or reception of 
 an Englifti Gentleman ? Certainly they are not ; 
 and yet, as we are now inftru&ed to difpofe the 
 Garden-fcene, the occupations of the Farm 
 are not to be excluded from it ; the purpofes of 
 life are not only attended to, but confulted. 
 Magnificence is no longer a Tyrant, deriving 
 his honours from the defoLition of his territo- 
 ries ; afluming a milder royalty, he now feeks 
 his chief glory from their fertile ftate ; he fets 
 his poliih upon accommodation, and it is 
 henceforward Utility toat the fting delighteth 
 to honour. What, therefore, can now be fa id
 
 ( 1*7 ) 
 
 in the praife of Agriculture that may not be ex- 
 tended to Gardening, with this additional feli- 
 city, that being endowed with Pleafures of its 
 own, it counteracts the guilty temptations of 
 fafhionaMe Vice, and renders the favourites of 
 Fortune partakers with the peafant in the blef- 
 fings of innocency and health, without, at the 
 fame time, impofing upon them the neceflity of 
 fharing in his toil j enjoying at once the oppor- 
 tunities of falubrious exercife and contemplative 
 leifure, unaffected by the little cares of the 
 world, and unalienated by feeing their unamia- 
 ble influence upon others, exempt, fo far as 
 human nature can be exempt, from the aflaulrs 
 of irretrievable difappointments, Contentment, 
 which generates the love of man, and a fenfe 
 of gratitude which, if not the thing itfelf, 
 mufl neccflarily refult in the love of God, take 
 poffefllon of their hearts, and aflume the con- 
 duct of their virtuous lives ; and hence, with 
 the man who tills his own ground, the Garden- 
 er may be juftly characterized as " one who in- 
 flicts no terror ; who entertains no hoil.le difpo- 
 fition, but is an univerfal friend ; whofe hands, 
 unearned with blood, are devoutly confecrated 
 to that God who blefles his orchards, his vin- 
 tage,
 
 ( 168 ) 
 
 tage, his threflung- floor, and his plough ; who 
 vindicates his equality in an equal flate, and 
 ftrenuoufly oppofes himfelf to the conflitution- 
 al encroachments of Ariftocratic or Monarchic 
 Power." (G) 
 
 COM-
 
 COMMENTARY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 THIRD BOOK. 
 
 iN an apoflrophe to his memory, the Poet 
 ow introduces his late lamented friend, Mr. 
 jray, as delivering his opinion on the fubjecl: 
 f the prefent Poem, and declaring the prefe- 
 ence which he gave to the works of Nature 
 ver every effort of Art. We are not, how- 
 ver, to conceive that he condemned her jufl 
 xertions, becaufe he prefers the more majeflic 
 ubhmity of Nature ; the contrary inference will 
 oliow from the precept with which he clofes 
 is animated counfclr for after he has ihowed 
 he inferiority of art's creative powers, he yet 
 >rocecds to regulate her conduct, and ftating 
 cr proper office, advifes her to conform to the 
 D.inon of Nature, and only to curb every fan- 
 aftic or capricious variation from her great 
 xample. (H) 
 
 The
 
 The fubjecfc of the Englifti Garden is not, 
 "* like that of Thomfon's Seafons, a mere de- 
 fcriptive Eulogy on the luxuriances and beauties 
 of Nature > it is preceptive, and its end is to 
 polilh Hufbandry, and inftrudt us in the art of 
 preferving thofe very beauties as far as may be 
 reconcilable with the necefiities of cultivation ; 
 thefe had, in the antient mode of Gardening, 
 been altogether fuperfeded ; to teach the 
 means, therefore, of recalling them is, furely, 
 not fetting up Art as a rival to Nature, it is 
 making it fubfcrvient and contributary to her 
 ends. If the rude magnificence of untouched 
 Nature could conlift with appropriation, it 
 would be unneceflary to prefcribe any rule ; 
 but when we know that it cannot, and. that 
 heretofore a falfe idea of beauty has been en- 
 tertained, (hall we, therefore, depreciate the 
 value of the leflbn that conveys a better ? Or 
 fhall we, becaufe the praife of Nature is higher 
 than that of Art, declare that Art is not deferr- 
 ing of our attent'on ? The argument, that on 
 this ground would militate againft the En^lifli 
 Garden, will be found to go a great deal farther, 
 and extend to the fubverfion of every other imi- 
 tative art as well as the Art of Gardening.
 
 t i7 ) 
 
 As we have all along confidered the Garden 
 as a Pi&ure, fo we are under the neceflity of 
 confidering the unadorned and naked foil as the 
 Painter's canvas, and confequently, of looking 
 on every means of ornamCnt as the pencils and 
 colours with which he is to work. But the 
 canvas, with the coarfe outlines of the fcene, 
 are fupplied by Nature ; the former Book has 
 corrected the drawing ; and now we come to 
 give it all the variety of tints that WOOD and 
 WATER c.in afford ; from thefe it is true the 
 landfcape will derive its moft important charms 
 of light and fhaddw, they are never thelefs re- 
 prefentedonly in the light of fuperadded, though 
 natural, ornaments, as not being enential to 
 the exiftence of the fcene which, coandereu in 
 this light, we fee may fulfill without them. 
 From the conduct of the Pathway, the Fence, 
 and the Ground-plan, therefore, the fubjet 
 now changes firfl to the proper difpofition of 
 WOOD ; and the picturesque purpofcs of plant- 
 ing being to conceal deformities and create or- 
 nament, the Planter, though it is declared un- 
 necefiary for him to he an adept in ali the fci- 
 cnce of the NaturaUft, with refpecl to the claf- 
 fification of trees, is yet required fiulfully to 
 know their feveral forms, their fiz^r, their co- 
 Q^ lours,
 
 ( 1.7* ) 
 
 Vtr. lours, their manner of growing, and other ex- 
 ' ' ternal characters, in order that he may be al- 
 ways able to apply them refpe&ively to thofe 
 purpofes which they are beft adapted to anfwer .; 
 for his ignorance of ^hefe may lead him into 
 I03 bad miftakes ; the Pine, for inftance, by its 
 quick growth and branching arms, feems well 
 calculated to fhut out the low wall or fence from 
 the view, yet a better acquaintance with its ha- 
 tl)I j bits, will fhew its unfitnsfs i for as it . ifes it is 
 found to fhake off thofe very arms that might 
 ferve to tempt the planter to ufe it. Box, 
 therefore, and Holly, &c. are declared more 
 eligible here, becaufe they are found to thicken 
 below,, and being planted not for their own 
 beauty, but to hide what is defective in other 
 objects, may be brought by the pruning knife 
 to any form that mod effe&ually promotes this 
 jf8 end. But .above all plants, the Laurel ha*s re- 
 ceived a preference from the Poet, as at once 
 both anfwering this purpofe, and being in itfelf 
 136 alfo pofitively beautiful. With thefe ever- 
 greens, it is farther recommended to blend 
 luch indigenous fhrubs as are of early bloom, 
 and though the utmoft nicety of feleSion be not 
 attended to, yet we are proaiifed a good ge- 
 neral cfft&, one rule only beinj obfcrvcd, 
 
 wmcii
 
 which is to range the darker foliage behind as a 
 ground to fling forward that which has a brigh- 
 ter hue, and, in Autumn, by their undecay- 
 fng verdure, to give brilliancy to the rude*: 
 colour which is acquired by the dying decidu- 
 ous leaves ; but this latter reafon is not infixed 
 on, the Spring and Summer being deemed of 
 more important coniiderarion : in order, how- 
 ever, to prevent any breach in the fkreen from 
 the decay of leaves in Winter, the greateft care 
 muft be taken to preferve the line of Evergreens 
 entire. 
 
 Such is the remedy for low deformities, but 
 to exclude thofe of loftier ftature, the interventi- 
 on of foreft-trees, fo planted as not to overhang 
 the underwood-fhrubbery, is required ; and 
 thefe may be fo managed, as that while they 
 conceal a part they may, at the fame time, 
 convert the remainder of a firu&ure even to an 
 ornamental object. When the barn-like choir 
 and chancel of a country Church, for inflance, 
 are by means of fuch a fkreen as this (hut out 
 from the view, what can afford a more pleafing 
 appearance than the tower which remains 
 among the deep-fhadowing foliage that has 
 ferved to conceal them ? 
 
 Q 2 It
 
 ( 174 ) 
 
 It only no\v remains to confider planting in- 
 1 55 the light of ornament, and as it ferves at once 
 to harmonize, and give energv to that oppofi- 
 tion of light r.nd made which refults, perhaps > 
 too tenderly from the eafy furface of the foil. 
 To the general maxims delivered in the firft 
 hook upon this fubjecl, the following more par- 
 ticular precepts arc therefore now added, and 
 takcji together, the whole may be confidered as 
 a complete code of all the laws that relate to 
 this fubjca. 
 
 155 Where the ground is fo elevated as to be itfelf 
 an obilrution, the interposition of foliage can- 
 not any farther abridge the view. Plant boldly, 
 therefore, on fuch a brow, it is itfelf your ob- 
 ject j its beauty mud arife from the richnefs of 
 its vcfture, and confequently the trees with 
 "which it is clothed muft be clcfely planted toge- 
 
 ioo ther j but on the plain beneath they mull be fct 
 fingle, or at wide intervals, and this without 
 any feeming order or the vifible interference of 
 art. 
 
 j'o Art muft, however, in reality interfere, and 
 that for many purpofes ; the indifcriminating 
 hand might e!fe exclude an eligible diftance by 
 
 the
 
 ( 175 ) 
 
 the interposition of trees which fpread their ^ >r 
 tops and hang their impenetrable branches, 
 while, under her correction, the fcene may be 
 preferved, and diffident wood obtained by 
 planting only fuch as bear an airy foliage on 
 light and lofty flems. 
 
 She muft fuperintend the choice of trees def- sup 
 fined to form either clumps or an extenfive 
 fliade, and for this purpofe felect fuch only as. 
 are of fimilar character, fize, ard colour, and 
 alfo bear their leaves in the fame feafon. 
 
 She will hearken to the dictates of Nature, *i 
 and carefully avoiding every tranfgreffion 
 againfl: her laws, will adapt her plants only to 
 fuch foils and fituations as are favourable to 
 their culture. 
 
 Avoiding difproportion, fhc will forbear to i 32 
 plant the Lawn with low clumps of ihrubbery, 
 and, inftead of incongruoufly attempting there 
 to interpofe their diminutive ftature for the fake 
 of variety, will range them contiguous to the 
 pathway, where alone they can have confe- 
 quence, and where the eye may either dwell 
 upon their peculiar beauties, or altogether look 
 beyond them. 
 
 Q.3 She
 
 She will teach us alfo to cultivate, only the 
 ; . 40 hardy indigenous race of trees, and to avoid 
 the introduction of exotics into the general 
 fcene, from \vhich an ill-adapted climate will 
 foon match them, and fo leave a blank. This 
 doctrine the Poet has enforced and exemplified 
 in a fictitious tale, which, however, he con- 
 cludes with a little abatement of his interdicli- 
 on ; for he allows, that if a tafie for foreign 
 .plants muft be gratified, it may be indulged in 
 ifome lateral feclufion from the general fcene 
 flickered from every rougher blaft, and open 
 
 only in mild and favourable afpefts. 
 
 i 
 
 301 ' ' The fubject of planting being now concluded 
 with a very brief recapitulation, referring the 
 'particular inftances to good tafte, and limiting 
 every precept that would attempt to regulate 
 
 313 this to little more than prohibitory caution, a 
 fubfequent evil is fuggefted, which is the 
 overgrowth of trees beyond the line they were 
 intended to defcribe, by means of which, when 
 the effect is obtained it is almoilas foon loft; but 
 the Planter whofe materials (in this differing 
 from thofe of the Painter) will not retain their 
 forms, is affured of his remedy in attention ; 
 and of being able to reflore his outline by intro- 
 ducing
 
 C 177 ) 
 
 ducing the axe and pruning knife to cut off the Fer. 
 luxuriance that has infringed thofe limits which 
 his pi&urefque idea had originally prefcribed. 
 
 Care then, we perceive, is neceffary to pre- 343 
 ferve whatTafte had created, but this necefiity, 
 we are to'd, fhould not yet difcourage us from 
 the purfuit of beauty : Mutability is a common 
 lot, and the poflibility of Winter-torrents 349 
 might be equally well urged againft the intro- 
 duction of Water into a Scene, or that it is 3$0 
 liable to be dried away by violent Summer heats. 
 And here the Poet, by means of this exempli- 
 fication, with great addrefs changes his theme 354 
 from Wood to WATER ; he feems to pant be- 
 neath the fervours he has juft defcribed, and 
 feeking a refuge in the coolnefs of the element 
 he has named, affumes the latter as a fubje<5t 
 which the heat he fuflains has rendered grateful 
 
 to his rnind. 
 
 * 
 
 The tendency which Nature has bellowed 3 jj 
 upon every portion of her works is vindicated 
 to them as a fpecies of right, and that of 
 Fluidity being an active defccnt to the loweft 
 beds, the falfe principles upon wliich the 
 French, as defcribed by Rapin, have endea- 
 voured
 
 er ' voured to give an upward current to water by 
 means of Jet d'eaux, with all their fantaftic 
 varieties, are cenfured as an infringement of its 
 equitable claims ; while the dank bottom 
 
 379 g p ound, which is, on that account, unfavour- 
 able to vegetation, is declared to be the proper 
 receptacle of this element. Here then, if 
 
 381 fufficiently copious, let it fpread ; or," if more 
 
 383 fcantily fupplied, and that the declivity of the 
 foil be fuch as to afford it a channel, let it rather 
 aflume the form of a river ; for to this, ^Extent 
 which is in general beyond the reach of Art, 
 and yet the ufual character of natural lakes, is . 
 not acquired. But, be the difpofition what it 
 
 385 may, we are defired in either cafe to give to 
 water an air of freedom in its outline, and a 
 bolder curve than that which has been already 
 prescribed for the pathway ; the natural reafon 
 of which precept is, that the bafe of every little 
 inequality in the ground jets into and turns it, 
 and confequently, as it is unable to climb and 
 furmount thefe, it mud receive them as limits 
 to its bed or channel. Thefe, it is true, the tor- 
 rent may cut or wear away, and hence the 
 rocky and perpendicular bank has its original; 
 but unlefs we have the means to fupply a torrent 
 fpeed to our artificial rivers, this fpecies of 
 
 margin
 
 margin is not a proper fubje& for our imita- r ' r - 
 tion. 
 
 Though the river has obtained a preference 398 
 on account of the difficulty of giving fufficient 
 greatnefs to the lake, the latter is not, how- 
 ever, profcribed, and the fmalleft extent of water 
 is allowed of for the purpofe of reflecting fo- 
 liage and its accidents, and as a fcene for 
 Water-fowl, &c. provided that, it be in a 
 fequeftered fituation, and well furrounded with 
 foreft-trees ; but unlefs fo bounded, thefe di- 
 minutive pools are declared to be abfolutely 
 inadmiffible, nothing being more obnoxious to 
 the eye than fuch palpable patches; for even 
 the greateft rivers, if by their windings they 
 are rendered feemingly difcontinuous, and are 
 caught only at broken intervals, are adjudged 
 difgufting, being thus reduced to pools, unlefs 
 indeed they afford a confiderable ftretch of 
 water contiguous to the beholder's ftation, in 
 which cafe the eye is carried on to their diftan- 
 ces, and thus unites their divided parts without 
 any other afliftance. 
 
 Fill then the channel you give to the water, 415 
 provided the beft effect of river is fought for, 
 
 in
 
 tr>er - in order that it may not be interrupted in its 
 windings, but ftill demonftrate its own conti- 
 nuance ; but when this has in reality found its 
 determination, let the eye there encounter 
 fbme (Irong feature of wood or frill feemingly 
 tnterpofed ; for beyond this, if conducted witK 
 
 4 '9 jutJgment, the imagination will certainly con- 
 tinue to prolong the dream. And here a con- 
 fideration of the neceflity we lie under of pro- 
 ct*fing abundant fupplies of water for all. thefe 
 purpofes, leads the Poet to a diret prohibition 
 of every attempt to introduce this great natural 
 ornament, unlefs we can give it perfection from 
 
 fuchifupplies. 
 
 
 
 4*1 The flat lake and low-bedded river being 
 thus difmifled, we now come to the rules wbich 
 teach the ftreams to defcend with beauty from 
 their higher fources to the vallies underneath. 
 But firff, the faJfc tafte of our anceftors, which 
 conducted water thus circumftanced down by 
 fteps, as it were, and for reiling-places, dif- 
 pofed it in fhort canals, fo ranged one beneath 
 anotber as in profile to afford the appearance of 
 flairs, but of length and continuance from 
 fome one favoured point of view, is cenfured 
 
 429 as deferving only our contempt, which we 
 
 ought
 
 ought to beftow ftill more liberally on that Vtr - 
 mode of communication which conveys it frcm 
 thofe above to thofe below by flights of narrow 
 flairs, whether it is fuffered at all times to trickle 
 down, or hoarded, on account of its fcarcity, 
 to be devolved only at long and arbitrary inter- 438 
 vals ; for the cafcade, fuch as Nature has exhi- 
 bited, and fuch alone is recommended to- our 
 prefent purpofe, requires an abundant ftore of 
 water, which muft firft be provided ere imitati- 
 on is attempted, and inftead or narrow fteps 45* 
 requires a vaft mound to fall over (I), which, 46* 
 when raifed, muft have its front beautified with 
 rocks to fhape the fall7 and give it the majeftic 
 rudenefs of Mature. (K) 
 
 But as the poff.ffion of thefe more magnifi- 47 j 
 cent features of landfcape is beyond the limits of 
 moft men's power, every attempt to atchieve 
 them without a previous certainty of fuccefs is 
 difcouraged, and we are defired toacquicfce in 
 the enjoyment of the little rivulet which waters 
 alnioft every fcene - 9 nay its improvement, if 
 requifite, is permitted ; but this muft be made 
 to corrcfpond exatll'/ with its character : it is 
 not the office of genuine art here to ftagnate the 
 lively f::x\!a: in:o v/idlh of lake^ o/ b retardin
 
 ^ r - its current to give it the form of a flow-moving 
 490 river ; on the contrary, flic will try to fret, and 
 fo to increafe its murmuring courfe as to con- 
 tinue it ftill, only in a higher degree, what 
 Nature originally formed it. 
 
 On the fecluded margin of one of thefe clear 
 rivulets, the Poet prefenting himfelf as feated, 
 there teftifying the fitnefs of fuch a fituation to 
 excite Fancy-, and in a ihort hiftory of his own 
 life giving an indance how conftantly he has 
 been enamoured of this kind of aquatic fcenery, 
 proceeds to confer a form and voice upon the 
 lovely ftream that has fo ftrongly captivated his 
 imagination. That voice which he has fchus 
 beftowed, he accordingly makes her now raife, 
 and concludes the book with a recital of the 
 
 531 Sonj, in which flie aptly renders the feveral 
 qualities of her little current fo many examples 
 
 541 of virtue to human Nature: her reflection of 
 the ray (he receives from the fun reads to man a 
 
 S4& Icflbn of gratitude; the nurture afforded to 
 every little flower that embroiders her banks,' 
 of extenuve benevolence ; (he fecks the lowlieft 
 vale for the path of her waters, and thence 
 
 ,... rebukes the aipiring career of Ambition; {he 
 call:- on Sloth to mark her brifk and uncca(in<r
 
 C 1*3 ) 
 
 :urrent ; and fwclling to an indignant torrent ref - 
 effectually to refift the Tyranny of Art, con- 552 
 temptuoufly derides the fervile Spirit ; (he then 555 
 commifiions her Poet to report her counfcls, 
 and with a warning voice to pronounce the 539 
 vices fhe has reprobated to be the caufe of a na- 
 tion's overthrow; but, if neglected, himfclf to 
 take the leffon and monopolize the profits he is 
 denied the means of communicating ; and thus 
 we become almoft perfuaded that we find the 
 aflertion of Shakefp^ar's Duke in As you like it, 
 even literally verified, the little brook has in- 
 ftruted us in good ; 
 
 " And thus a life exempt from public haunt 
 ' Finds tongues in trees, books in the running 
 
 dreams, 
 ** Serrrums in ftones, and good in everything." 
 
 e o M~
 
 OMMENTARY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 FOURTH BOOK. 
 
 SIMPLICITY having already reformed 
 he tafte and corrected the falfe principles of 
 Gardening ; delineated the genuine curve of 
 Nature ; inftru&ed us in the means of uniting 
 Beauty with Ufe, and to this end concealed the 
 ntceflary fence which forms their common li- 
 mit ; having promulged the laws of Planting, 
 and directed the proper courfe or bed for Water, 
 is once more invoked to continue her af- 
 fiftance, while the Poet proceeds now to the 
 confederation of artificial ornaments, that is, 
 of fuch works of Architecture and Sculpture as 
 may, without derogation from its dignity, be 
 admitted into the Garden Scene. 
 
 But this is not the whole, for the fourth Book 
 
 not only extends to artificial ornament, but is 
 
 R 2 a kind
 
 ( 1 85 ) 
 
 a kind of recapitulation of all that has gone be- 
 fore, which, exclufive of variety, the declared 
 purpofe of its Author, gives, even in point of 
 ftrift propriety, a preference to the form of a tab 
 in which it is conceived ; for were it p r ecep- 
 tively written, it mud have been reftrided to 
 its fingle fubje&, while the ordinary rufes of 
 compofition allow a latitude and allot the bufi- 
 nefs of exemplification and enforcement to the 
 eonclufion. The demefne of ALCAXDER ac- 
 cordingly fliews us not the example only from 
 which we may, on the prefent portion of the 
 fttbjc&, deduce for ourfelves the rule, but in 
 its general difpofition demonftrates the great 
 advantage of attending to every rule that has 
 been already prefcribed. 
 
 Thefe, however, have been confidered in 
 their refpe&ive places, and therefore it on'v re- 
 mains for me to dlfcufs the principles of artifi- 
 cial ornament as they are fet forth in the prac- 
 tice of ALCANDER, 
 
 All vefliges of former Art being obliterated, 
 and Nature reflored to her original fimplicity, 
 the ftudy of congruity in ornament is the finl 
 maxim that offers itfclf to our obiervation ; 
 
 and
 
 ( 187 ) 
 
 nd therefore, if the principal ftru&ure or man- fr > 
 
 be Gothic, the ornamental buildings 
 lould be made to agree with it. Even fuch 8c 
 ecelTary ilructures as the offices of a Farm, fel- 
 om ornamental in themfelves, may, at a 
 oper diflance, receive this character ; by 
 eing mafked with the fictitious ruins of a caf- 
 e they will apppear as if the feliques of an 
 ntient fortrefs had been turned to the purpofes 
 : hufbandry, and thus, inftead of offending 
 ic fight, be converted to a correfpondent and 
 even a noble object ; while a mouldering Ab- gc 
 bey will better ferve to conceal thofe domeftic 5,5 
 ftruttures that ftand nearer to the view. 
 
 But not only the mutual agreement of build- 
 ings fhould be attended to, but their agreement 
 with the circumflances of the fcene in which 
 they are introduced ; the Caftle, for inftance, 
 fhould derive the probability of having flood 
 in former ages, from a fituation in which 
 it is probable that a former age would haye 
 placed it for the purpofes of defence and 
 ftrength ; to this, therefore, an elevated fitua- 
 tion is adapted, while a fccluded recefs and 
 contiguity to running water, are not among the 
 leaft eflential characters of the Abbey, which 
 R 3 ftiould,
 
 7ef - fliould, now that time is fuppofed to have patted 
 over it, ftand backed with wood, and fo funk . 
 in (hade as to give it an air of antique folemnity ; 
 for the great and venerable tree will be confider- 
 ed as a kind of witnefs to its age, while dili- 
 gence fhould be ufed to bring forward the 
 growth of Ivy to aflift in giving credit to the 
 fiction. 
 
 Still farther, in every ornamental building of 
 Ivhatfoever kind, an- agreement of its parts 
 among themfelves is to be maintained j in thofc 
 already inftanced it is requifite that every cha- 
 raSer of each fhould be prcferved with the moft 
 fcrupulous precifion: omiflion of parts indeed 
 may be juflified by the fuppofition of ruin and 
 decay ; but what can palliate the abfurditv of 
 annexing parts unknown to antiquity, and 
 altogether foreign from the original purpofes of" 
 fuch a flruclurc ? 
 
 . Thefe are the greatcft poffible artificial fea- 
 tures, and as they muft neceflarily preclude 
 all littlenefs, and confequently exceed the abi- 
 jities of :noft improvers, they are coavcrted to 
 ufes which muft, undoubtedly, be fomewhere 
 co.nplied Tvith, and which will, therefore, de- 
 fray
 
 ( 1 89 ) 
 
 fray at leafl fome part of the charges. Thefe 
 alio belong to the general fcenery, and confe- 
 quently admit of no difpenfation either -with 
 rsfpecfc to their greatn;fs, or propriety in the 
 manner of conftru&ing them. The inference 
 is obvious : where the execution, from its pro- 
 per point of view, cannot amount to abfolute 
 deception, let the attempt be altogether relin.- 
 quifhed : to fictitious buildings of this nature I 
 have never yet heard an objection (and many 
 an objection I have heard) that in fubftance ex- 
 tended farther than to fuch as are ill performed* 
 and agninft fuch I am as ready to give my voice 
 as the fevered critic that has ever patted judg- 
 ment upon them. (L) 
 
 But, apart from the general, there is alfo 
 another fpecies of fcenery to which alone the 
 ornament may be referred without confidering 
 its relation to the whole: Thus, if the valley be 
 fo funk as to make no part of the. prospect, the 
 ftructure that adorns it may be adapted rather 
 to this of which it w. 11 confhtute an important 
 feature, than to the whole, of which, by the 
 fuppo^tion, it makes no part at all ; to this 
 retired valley, therefore, if watered by a rapid 
 llream, the grotto is well adapted, for the 
 
 water
 
 ( 190 ) 
 
 Vr - water trickling through it roof, will ferve to 
 keep it always cool for refrefhment ; but even 
 here within itfelf, confiftency of ornament muft 
 be attended to ; and whether the fcene in which 
 it is placed be inland, or in view of the ocean, 
 the building muft only be incrufted with the 
 productions that are natural to its fituation and 
 the foil. 
 
 173 The Flower-Garden alfo comes under this 
 <lefcription ; and therefore it is required, that 
 it fliall (land apart from the genera] fcene, and 
 be whatever it is within itfelf; fome glade or 
 flickered feclufion is confequently its proper fi- 
 
 , J4 tuation. The form and difpofition of the flow- 
 er-beds, though very irregular, muft not ap- 
 pear broken into too many round and disjointed 
 patches, but only feeni to interrupt the green- 
 fward walks, which, like the mazy herbage 
 that in foreft-fcenes ufually furround the un- 
 derwood tufts of thorn, wind carelefsly among 
 them, and running from fide to fide through 
 every part of the fcene, frequently meet the 
 gravel path that leads round the whole. The 
 Flower-Garden being profeflldly a work of art, 
 will no more defire to catch profpeds beyond its 
 own limits than it fecks to be feen from without 
 
 itfelf j
 
 tfelf; the internal fcenery, therefore, muft 
 confift of objects adapted to a neighbouring eye, 
 
 jrefent it with graceful architectural forms, 
 and call to mind, by their emblems, the Vir- 
 tues and the Arts that deferve our cultivation, 
 or by their bufts the names of men, who, by 
 cultivating thefe, have deferred our grateful 
 
 remembrance. 
 
 
 
 But among all the ornaments of the Flower- 
 Garden, the Confervatory is intitled to the pre- 
 eminence j great, however, as it may be ren- 
 dered, it is not yet requifite that its ilyle fhould 
 coincide with that of the manfion ; it (lands in 
 a feparate fcene, there forms the principal fea- 
 ture, and, confequently, inflead of receiving, 
 fhould itfelf prefcribe the mode to which every 
 inferior ornament muft be made to conform. 
 
 Separation from the general fcene is likewife 
 requifite for the recefs where domeftic fowl are 
 reared ; and as thefe are of two kinds, the land 
 and the aquatic, their little demefne muft con- 
 fift of parts adapted to the habits of each : the 
 lake ftudded with fmall iflands and furrounded 
 with a grafly bank, will afford them every ac- 
 commodation of this nature j and the narrow- 
 
 nefs
 
 ( 192 ) 
 
 rer - nefs of the fpace required will give'propriety to 
 the introdu&ion of fome elaffic emblematical 
 
 334 ornaments; while the whole animated plot may 
 be enjoyed from a bower or ruftic feat, fo fituat- 
 ed as at once to comprehend it all, and fo cir- 
 eumftanced as to fliut out the glare of the 
 noontide fun by the means of climbing Ihrub- 
 bery, which will ferve at the fame tijjne to invert 
 the wall and conceal the mafonry of which this 
 bower mufl neceflarily be conftructed. 
 
 Thefe three confiftencies, for fuch they may 
 6e called, with the fcene, with each other, and 
 of each within itfelf, being thus declared ne- 
 ceflary to artificial ornaments, and exemplified 
 in a Gothic fcheme, the manner of maintain- 
 ing them, where the manfion or principal 
 ftuclure is of Greek Architecture, is now pre- 
 fcribed ; and here, inftead of the majeftic 
 Ruin, the great ornaments of the general fcene 
 fliould rather confift of the Temple, the Obeliflc, 
 
 388 the Column, or triumphal Arch. The frag- 
 ment, ho-vever, of the Gothic Structure is not 
 
 v to be confiderecl as an inconfiilency in England; 
 it may be the refidue of an age that actually 
 once exifted ; it has, confequently, a kind of 
 prefcriptive right to its ftation, and fhould not 
 
 there-
 
 ( 193 ) 
 
 therefore be obliged to conform ; while the Ver - 
 Greek buildings that are raifed to fuit the man- ^ 00 
 lion muft be made to appear its modern cotem- 
 poraries, the idea of a Greek Ruin in England 
 being a contradi&ion both to hiftory and. expe- 
 rience. 
 
 Every argument to prove the neceflity of W 
 maintaining confiltency, being in a manner 
 exhaufted, it remained only for the Poet with 
 ridicule to explode the heterogeneous mifcella- 
 nies of buildings which have been fometimes 
 drawn together from remote parts of the earth, 
 and by a comic painting of the puerile chaos to 
 render it contemptible in our eyes. 
 
 As it feems to have been our Author's inten- 6& 
 tion to fele& from the variety of buildings, 
 which have ufually found a place in our modern 
 Gardens, fuch as were capable of being intro- 
 duced with the greateft congruity, and, when 
 fo introduced, capable of producing the beft 
 efte6l, he could not well overlook, that mofl 
 common of them all, the Hermitage ; he has 
 therefore allotted to it a fituation retired and fo- 
 litary ; but, as the melancholy circumftances 
 of his tale led him to do, he has alfo made it a 
 
 kind
 
 ( 194 ) 
 
 kind of monumental ftru&ure ; here as elfc- 
 where, by example and precept, conveying to 
 us thefe important leflbns, that fuch melancho- 
 ly memorials fhould only be raifed where a real 
 intere'ft in their object gives them propriety, 
 and that where the circumftance recorded is 
 near the heart, fimplicity fhould be mofl fludi- 
 oufly confulted, as emblems and unappropriat- 
 ed ornaments mufl neceflarily prove contemp- 
 tible to a mind which is too much in earnefl to 
 derive any picafure from fiction. (M) 
 
 Although it has been my province to divide 
 what the poet has mofl clofcly interwoven, to 
 decompound, as it were, this part of the Poem, 
 and feparate the preceptive maxims, from the 
 tender narrative in which they are involved, I 
 cannot, however, conclude without obferving 
 that this book appears to me to be unique in its 
 kind, as combining with infinite addrefs in one 
 natural whole, the dramatic, the defcriptive, 
 and the dida&ic genera of writing. To eluci- 
 date the laft is all that I have attempted ; and if 
 what I have written tends, in any fort, to give 
 the lefs attentive kind of readers a clearer con- 
 ception of the general plan of the Poem, and 
 of the connexion of its parts with each other, 
 
 it
 
 will add confiderably to the plcafure I have V'f- 
 ready enjoyed in this agreeable occupation. 
 
 Having now finiflicd the *, hole of his fubjecr, 66e, 
 e concludes this .book, as he had done the firft, 
 with an addrefs to thofe of his countrymen who 
 ave a reliih for the politer arts; but as an in- 
 erval of more than ten years had paft between 
 ic times when the firft and fourth books were 
 written, that art, therefore, which in the former 
 ae exhorts them to praftife for the embellifhmcnt 
 f a then profperous country, in the latter he 
 ecommends, merely for the purpofe of anvufe- (j.. t 
 ment and felf-confolation, at a period when the 
 reedom and p-ofperity of that country lay op- 
 )reir?d beneath the weight of an immoral, a 
 >eculating, afanguinary, and defolatingfyftem. 
 iiftory, xvlien fne tranfmits the records of the 
 ear 1781, will beft convince pofterity that this 
 6nclu(ion of the Poem had in it as much pro-, 
 >ricty when it was written, as they will feel that 
 t has pathos when they ptrufe it. 
 
 It is refcrved for me to conclude this Commen- 
 
 ary in a happier hour : When a great and un- 
 
 xpzcled minifterial revolution gives us good 
 
 eafon to hope that the fv/ord which was drawn 
 
 S to
 
 ( '9* ) 
 
 to obliterate the rights of mankind, and cut up 
 the fecurities of Property, will foon hide its 
 difappointed and guilty edge in its fcabbard; 
 that Commerce will once more return with 
 opulence to our fhores ; and that a juft, a ge- 
 nerous, and a liberal Policy will fcorn to reftrain 
 her benefits to a (ingle diftricl of a great and 
 united Empire. I have only to afk of Heaven 
 to haften the maturity of thefe bleflings; to 
 give them perpetuity ; and, inftead of fuffer- 
 ing a barbarous and debilitating luxury to groAv 
 upon that profperity of which it has thus afford- 
 ed us a profpecl:, to invigorate our very amufe- 
 ments, and teach us with a manly and patriot 
 pride, in the hours of peace and relaxation, to 
 aim at lifting our country to that fuperiority in 
 genuine Arts which we have fo lately begun to 
 vindicate to her in juft and honourable Arms. 
 
 THE END OF THE COMMENTARY. 
 
 y 50, 1782. 
 
 NOTES
 
 NOTE 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 OEM 
 
 AND 
 
 COMMENTARY. 
 
 S2
 
 Such of the following Notes as are marked 
 with numeral Letters and the numjber of the 
 Verfe refer to the Poem, and were infertcd by 
 the Author in the former quarto Editions of 
 its feparate books. Thofe marked with the 
 capital Letters of t4*e Alphabet and the Page 
 refer to the Commentary.
 
 NOTES 
 
 UPON 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST 
 
 AND ITS 
 
 COMMENTARY. 
 
 NOTE I. Verfc 30. 
 
 * 
 
 At this fad beur, my defolated foul. 
 
 1 HIS Poem was begun in the year 1767, 
 not long after the death of the amiable perfon 
 here mentioned. See Epitaph tbe frji in tbc 
 Author' 1 ! Poems. 
 
 NOTE A. Page 121. 
 
 I think it proper to apprize my Reader, that 
 
 I ufe the general term GARDENING for that 
 
 peculiar fpecies of modern improvement which 
 
 is the fubjet of the Poem, as it is diitinguifhcd 
 
 S 3 from
 
 ( 200 ) ' 
 
 from common horticulture and planting. 
 
 The Gardener in my fenfe, and in that of the 
 Poet, bears the fame relation to the Kitchen- 
 Gardener that the Painter does to the Houfe- 
 Painter. 
 
 NOTE B: Page 130. 
 
 The few defcriptions of Gardens which oc- 
 cur in the writers of antiquity, cut off all hope 
 of obtaining any c'aflical aid to the art. In 
 that of Alcinous the charm confifts not in the 
 happy difpofition of the little plot, for it was 
 hedged in and contained only four acres, but in 
 the fupernatural eternity of its bloom and ver- 
 dur^e, and the perpetual maturity of its fruits. 
 The hanging gardens of Babylon, and of the 
 Egyptian Thebes, like the paftures on the roof 
 of Nero's golden palace, are rather to be confi- 
 dcred as the caprices of Architecture. The 
 younger Cyrus, according to Xenophon's ac- 
 count of his occupations, had, perhaps, a 
 more juft idea of magnificence, yet {till the 
 orderly arrangement of his quincunxes could 
 nev^r have confided with the picturefque prin- 
 ciple. If we turn to the primitive Romans, 
 their Agrarian laws, however ill executed, di- 
 rccily operated againfl this art, and we find 
 
 Cinclnatus
 
 ( 201 ) 
 
 Cincinatus called not from his Garden but his 
 Farm to afTume the government of his coun- 
 try ; and as to the Liternum of Scipio, that 
 fimplicity of life, which is fo highly applauded 
 by Seneca, and the very little care he took 
 even to accommodate himfelf there, will give 
 us reafon to believe that he rather neglected 
 than overpolifhed his villa. Cicero was a pro- 
 fefled admirer of topiary works, which exactly 
 correfpond with the green ftatuary, the efpa- 
 liers, and trellis-work of our own old gardens : 
 " Trahitur enim CuprefTus in pi&uras opere 
 " Hiiloriali, venatus claflefve, et imagines 
 " rerum tenui folio, brevique et virente fu- 
 " pcrveftiens." Plin. Nat. HiJI. lib. 6. cap. 33. 
 
 From the laboured defcription which the 
 Younger Piiny has given us of his own Thuf- 
 can Villa, we may at once infer the truth of 
 our Poet's panegyric on the general appearance 
 of Italy, and alfo that Gardening had not im- 
 proved at Rome beneath the inperial yoke. 
 Nothing can exceed the beauty of that fcenery 
 which this elegant writer has laid before us : 
 " A Theatre, fuch as Nature alone coulJ con- 
 " ftru&, is prefentedto our eye: a Valley is 
 t( extended at the foot of the furrounding Ap- 
 
 " pcnine,
 
 ( 202 ) 
 
 " penine, \vhofe loftieft: fummifcs arc crowned 
 
 * f with old patrician Forefts, while the de- 
 
 *' fcertding fides arc covered with foliage, there 
 
 e< only interrupted where fome bold- projections 
 
 " lift their heads above it : Vineyards extended 
 
 " on every fide occupy the bafe of the moun- 
 
 " tain, while the valiey beneath looks chearful 
 
 " with meadows and cornfields, and all- the 
 
 " varieties of inclofure and cultivation ; the 
 
 ** whole is fertilized by eternal rills which are 
 
 " yet no where collected in a ftagnant lake, but 
 
 tf hurry down the declivities of the ground 
 
 '* into the Tiber, which, forming here a' vaft 
 
 " navigable ftream, and reflecting the whofc 
 
 " lanifcape from his finooth furface,, divides 
 
 " the valley in the midft." 
 
 Such are the glowing fcenes of Italy, and 
 how well adapted they are to the canvas Pliny 
 himfelf has perceived ; for he declares, "the 
 " view before him to referable a picture bcau- 
 " tifully compofed, rather than a work of Na- 
 '* ture accidentally delivered." 
 
 And now, having contemplated the profpe&, 
 it is time to turn our eye to the proprietor, and 
 the character of that foreground from which he
 
 was pleafed to enjoy it. Behold him then 
 hemmed in by a narrow inclofure, furrounded 
 with a graduated mound, tracing, perhaps, 
 His own or his Gardener's name fcribbled in 
 fome fort of herbage upon a forinai parterre, or 
 ranging in allies formed of boxen pyramids and 
 unfhorrt apple-trees placed alternately, in order, 
 as he declares himfelf, " happily to blend rufti- 
 ff city M'ith the works of more poirffied art ;" 
 rtay, it is e'vea pofliblethat feated now upon a 
 perforated bench, fo contrived as, under die 
 p refill re of his weight, to fling up innumerable 
 jetsd'eau, he thence takes in the view of this 
 " vaft Theatre of Nature" from between the 
 figures or famaitic moniters or the jaws ot wiltf 
 
 into which he has fiitfrti ff foW of box- 
 trees af the foot of an even floping terras. IiV 
 brief, in a foreground probabfy dfefigned, but 
 certainly applauded by the Younger Pliny, rttf> 
 veftige of Nature is fuflfered to rema-in ; and if, 
 from a man of his erudition and acdornpHftr- 
 meitts, we rccdive nt> better a model 1 for our 
 imitation, I believe we may fafely infer, that 
 however lovely Italian fcenefy in general may be 
 to the eye, the fearch of elaflic aid to the Ait of 
 Gardening muft prove abfolutely fruitleis : By 
 
 one
 
 ( 204 ) 
 
 one of his contemporaries," it is true, the defec- 
 tive tafte of his age was obferved, but the cen- 
 fure affords an argument of its universality 
 while it exempts only the feniibie individual 
 who pronounced it. 
 
 In vallem Egerias defcendimus et fpehincas 
 DiilifT.ileis veris. Quanto praftantius eflet 
 Kumen Aqua, viridi fi margine clauderet undas 
 Herba, nee ingenuum violarent raarmora tophum. 
 Juven. Sat, iii. i>er. 17^ 
 
 The villa of the Gordlani, defcribed by J. 
 Capitolinus, is in much the fame ftile, nor 
 does that of Diocletian feem to have poffefled 
 any advantage over it. 
 
 I fhould not name the fictitious Garden of 
 Pfyche, as delineated in very general terms by- 
 Apuleius, but for the purpofe of introducing 
 one of a much later date, defcribed by his com- 
 mentator Beroaldiis, and fo illuftrating the 
 equally defective Ta^e of modern " fuperfti- 
 tious Italy." " Behold then the faireft and 
 moft mascnificent feat fubfifting in the territo- 
 ries of Bologna in the year 1510 ; and we find 
 its beauties to coni'it of a marble fountain, in 
 a green inclofure, throwing the water up by 
 
 means
 
 ( 205 ) 
 
 means of fiphons ; of a fifh-pond annexed to 
 this; and of a long and right-lined canal be- 
 tween two parallel (lone-walls, while another 
 {lone-wail of ten feet high, but broad enough 
 at top to admit of two perfons walking abreaft 
 on it, completely excludes the view of the 
 country and of the natural river from which 
 this canal is fupplied with* water." In the year 
 1550 we find a Cardinal a Valle, at Rome, 
 employed in erecting a hanging Garden on the 
 columns of his palace. -Strada, who was him- 
 felf a Roman, -gives us his own idea of a per- 
 fect Garden in the middle of the lad century, 
 and like that of Pliny, it principally confifts of 
 jets d'eau and green ftatuary : And Bilhop 
 Burnet, in the year 1685, deicribes the Bor- 
 romean Garden in the Lago Maggiore, as 
 " -rifing from t!vj lake by five rows of terraffes 
 <f on the three fides of the Garden that are 
 " watered by the Like ; the flairs arc no- 
 <e b!e, the walls are all covered with Gran- 
 " ges and Citrons, and a more beautiful fpot 
 * l of a Garden cannot be fecn." He after-* 
 ards inforn;s lit-, in moi e general terms, that 
 *' the Gardens of Itaiy are made at great coll ; 
 " -the flatucs aud .ouutiuus are very rich and 
 
 * * no'ole ;
 
 ( 206 ) 
 
 " noble ; the grounds are well laid out, and the 
 " walks are long and even, but they are fo 
 " high-fcentcd by plots made with box, that 
 *< there is no pleafure to walk in them ; they 
 " alfo lay their walks between hedges that 
 " one is much confined in them. In many of 
 " their Gardens there goes a courfe of water 
 " round the walls,* about a foot from the 
 " ground, in a channel of ftone that goes 
 " round the fide of the waHl." So here is an 
 Italian Garden, walled round, watered by 
 fountains, and an elevated (lone -channel at its 
 extremities, and divided into box-plots by long, 
 even-, high-hedged walks ; " but they have no 
 " gravel," he fays, " to make the fe firm and 
 " beautiful like thofc we have in England ;" 
 and hence, herhaps, it is that the judgment of 
 Addifoir, who vifited that country but a little 
 after, may be accounted for ; for he fays, 
 " their Gard:ns then contained a large extent 
 " of ground covered over with an agreeable 
 " mixture of Garden and Forefl, which re- 
 prefer.t every where an artificial rudencfs, 
 " much more charming that that neatnefs an(| 
 " elegance which we meet with in our own 
 ' country;" bi.t he beftov.-s the fame enco- 
 mium
 
 mium upon the Gardens of France, where 
 there is but little reafort to believe that he re-" 
 ally found a better flile than that which prevail- 
 ed at, home; hedefired to reform a mode that 
 difgufted him ; he Taw the fault and wifhcd to 
 avoid it, but had never formed an idea of the 
 perfe&ion to which it was poffible the art could 
 be carried j whatever differed from the obnoxi- 
 ous track he had been ufed to afforded him 
 fatisfa&ion, and this he probably exaggerated to 
 himfelf, and was glad to make ufe of as an 
 example to his doctrines. It is not very likely 
 that Mr. Addifon, if he were ftill living, 
 would now beftow the exalted title of heroic 
 Poets upon the designers of Kenfington Gar- 
 dens : But the fa& is, we were in his time the 
 apes of France in this as well as in every other 
 frippery device of Fafhion, and Le Nautre 
 alike prefided over the tafts of Gardening in 
 both countries. Rapin is childifh in his pre- 
 cepts ; Stevens, a century before him, deliver- 
 ed nearly the fame in profe ; and I cannot find 
 that France, at any previous time, afforded an 
 Jnftance of a practice better than they have 
 prefcriled. The genius of Petrarch, I grant, 
 is in fome refpect vifible at Vauclufc ; but who 
 T has
 
 ( 208 ) 
 
 has dared to tread in his footfteps ? But I do 
 not defign minutely to trace the hiftory of 
 French Gardening. It is my purpofe only to 
 confirm the afTcrtion of the Poet, who vindi- 
 cates the Art he lings to his own country ; and 
 this, I think, I have fufficiently done, by en- 
 quiring into its ftate upon the Continent, and 
 chiefly in Italy, down to the time about which 
 it feems to have had its commencement in Eng- 
 land ; but though admired by fome Of their 
 travellers who have vifited this country, it is ' 
 not yet adopted by them, and confequently no 
 modern claim can come into competition with 
 ours. Mr. Gray has aiTerted our originality in 
 this particular, and Algarotti has acknowledged 
 it *. The Art is, therefore, our own, and 
 confequently the Poem, which, undertakes to 
 impart its principles, has a right to intitle itfelf 
 the ENGLISH GARDEN. 
 
 NOTE C. Page 141. 
 
 In a poitfcript which the Author annexed to 
 the quarto edition of the fourth book of this 
 Poem, in which he gave a general analyfis of 
 the whole, and anfwered certain objections 
 
 * Sea Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Mr. 
 Gray, Let. 8, Sett. 5. 
 
 which
 
 which had been made to particular paflages in 
 it, he "thus vindicates himfelf for having pre- 
 fcribed the demolition of viftas, which had been 
 defended as having in themfelves a confiderable 
 fhare of intrinf.c beauty: " I am," fays he, 
 (f myfelf far from denying this, 1 only affert 
 that their beauty is not piclurefque beauty ; 
 and, therefore, that it is to be rejected by thoie 
 who follow picturefque principles. It is archi- 
 tectural beauty, and accords only with archi- 
 tectural works. Where the Artift follows thofe 
 principles, viftas are certainly admiffible; and 
 the French, who have fo long followed them, 
 have, therefore, not improperly (though one 
 cannot help fmiling at the title) given us, in 
 their Dictionary of Sciences, an article of 
 Arcbiteflure du Jardinvge, But did Gafpar 
 PoulTin, or Claude Lorrain, ever copy thofe 
 beauties on their canvas ? Or would they tave 
 produced a pi&urefque efFecT: by their means if 
 they had ? I think this fingle confederation will 
 induce every perfon of common tafte to allow 
 that thefe two principles oppofe one another ; 
 and that whenever they appear together, they 
 offend the eye of the beholder by their heteroge- 
 neous Uauty. If, therefore, viftas are ever to 
 be admitted, or rather to be retamed> it is only 
 T 2 where
 
 ( 210 ) 
 
 where they form an approach to fome fuperb 
 manfion fo fituated that the principal p"rofpe& 
 and ground allotted to pi&urefque improve- 
 ment lie entirely on the other fide; fo much fo 
 that the two different modes of planting can 
 never appear together from any given point of 
 view ; and this is the utmoft that I can concedes 
 onthefubjea." 
 
 NOTE II. Vcrfcjps. 
 Wilb Jlone. Egregious madnefs ; yet purfu'd 
 
 Although this fecms to be the principle upon 
 which this falfe tafte was founded, yet the error 
 was detected by one of our firft writers upon, 
 architecture. I ftiall tranfcribe the pafTage,. 
 which is the more remarkable as it came from 
 the quaint pen of Sir Henry Wotton : " I muft 
 " note," fays he, " a certain contrariety be- 
 " tween building and gardening : for as fa- 
 " bricks fhould be regular, fo gardens fhoyld 
 " be irregular, or at leaft caft into a very wild 
 " regularity. To exemplify my conceit, I 
 " have feen a Garden, for the manner per- 
 " chance incomparable, into which the firft 
 " accefs was a high walk like a terras, from 
 " whence might be taken a general view of 
 
 " the
 
 ( 211 ) 
 
 " the whole plot below, but rather in a de- 
 lightful confuHon, than with any plain dif- 
 tin&ion of the pieces. From this the be- 
 holder defcending many fteps, was after- 
 wards conveyed again by feveral mountings 
 an4 valings, to various entertainments of his 
 fcent and fight : which I {hall not need to 
 defcribe, for that were poetical ; let me on- 
 " \y note this, that every one of thefe diverfi- 
 f< ties, was as if he had been magically tranf- 
 " ported into a new garden." Were the ter- 
 ras and the fteps omitted, this defcription would 
 feem to be almoft entirely conformable to our 
 prefent ideas of ornamental planting. The paf- 
 fage which tollows is not lefs worthy of our no- 
 tice. <c But though oth.r countries have more 
 " ben-.fit of the Sun than ^p, and thereby 
 " more properly tied to contemplate this de- 
 f< 1 ght ; yet have I feen in our own a delicate 
 '* and diligent curiofity, furely without parallel 
 " among foreign nations, namely in the gar- 
 " d'.n of Sir Henry Fan.'ha'.v, at his feat in 
 fe Ware-Park ; w ! :e r e, I well remember, he 
 '* did fo pr cifcly examine the tinilures and 
 f< feafbns of his flowers, that in ther letting^ 
 " the in vardift of which tint were to come 
 " up at the maic time, fl.ould be alwajs a lit- 
 T3 "tie
 
 ( 212 ) 
 
 " tie darker than the utmoft, and fo ferve them 
 ' for a kind of gentle fhadow." This feems 
 to be the very fame fpecies of improvement 
 which Mr. Kent valued himfelf for invent- 
 ing, in later times, and of executing, not 
 indeed with flowers, but with flowering iiirubs 
 and ever-greens, in his more finifhed pieces of 
 fcenery. The method of producing which ef- 
 fect has been defcribed with great precifion and 
 judgment by a late ingenious writer. (See 
 Obfervatiens on modern Gardening, feel. 1 4th, 
 I5th, and i6th.) It may, however, be doubt- 
 ed whether Sir Henry Fanfhaw's garden were 
 not too delicate and diligent a curiofity, fince its 
 panegyrift concludes the whole with telling us, 
 that it was " like a piece not of Nature, but 
 " of Art." See R.'li quite V/ottoniance t page 
 64, edit. 4th. 
 
 NOTE III. Verfe 412.. 
 The wilds of tafte. Tts, fagcjl YERULAM, 
 Lord Bacon, in the 46th of his eflays, de- 
 fcribes what he calls the platform of a princely 
 garden. If the Reader compare this description 
 with that which Sir William Temple has giver 
 in his efTay, intituled, The Gardens of Epicurus^ 
 written in a fubfequent age, he will find 
 
 -the
 
 the fuperiority of the former very apparent; 
 For though both of them are much obfcured 
 by the falfe tafte of the times in which 
 they were written, yet the vigor of Lord 
 Bacon's genius breaks frequently through the 
 cloud, and gives us a very clear difplay of what 
 the real merit of gardening would be when its 
 true principles were afcertained. For inftance, 
 out of thirty acres which he allots for the whole 
 of his Pleafure-ground, he felecls the firft four 
 for a lawn, without any intervention of plot or 
 parterre, " becaufe,"fays he, " nothing is more 
 " pleafant to the eye than green grafs kept 
 " finely {horn." And ' ' as for the making of 
 " knots of figures, with diverfe coloured 
 " earths, that they may lie under the window. 
 " of the houfe, on that fide which the garden 
 " ftands, they be but toys, you may fee as 
 " good fights many times in tarts." Sir Wil- 
 liam Temple, on the contrary, tells us, that in 
 the garden at Moor-park, which was his model 
 of perfection, the firft inlet to the whole was a 
 very broad gravel walk garnifhcd with a row of 
 Laurels which looked like Orange-trees, and 
 was terminated at each end by a fummer-houfe. 
 The parterre or principal garden which makes 
 the fecond part in each of their defcrij tions, it 
 
 muft
 
 muft be owned, is equally devoid of fimplicity 
 in them both. f< The garden/' fays hisLordfhip, 
 " is bed to be fquare, encompaflcd with a 
 " {lately arched-hedge, the arches to be upon 
 " carpenters work, over every arch a little 
 tf belly enough to receive a cage of birds, and, 
 " over every fpace, between the arches, fome 
 ** other little figure with broad plates of round 
 " coloured glafs, gilt for the fun to play upon." 
 It would have been difficult for Sir William to 
 make his more fanta.lic ; he has, however, not 
 made it more natural. The third part which 
 Lord Bacon calls the Heath, and the other the 
 Wilderness, is that in which the Genius of Lord 
 Bacon is moft vifiblc ; " for this," fays he, < ' 1 
 " wifti to be framed as much as may be to a 
 " natural wilinefs." And accordingly he gives 
 us a deicription of it in the moll; agreeable and 
 pi&urefque terms, in'bmuch that it fcems lefs the 
 work of his own fancy than a delineation of that 
 ornamental fcenery which had no exigence till 
 above a century after it was writen. Such, 
 when he defcended to matters of mere Elegance 
 (for when we fp?ak of Lord Bacon, to treat of 
 thefe was to ddcend) were the amazing powers 
 of his tniverf.il Genius. 
 
 NOTE
 
 NOTE IV. Verfe 447. 
 All tlat the Npmpb forgot, or left forlorn. 
 See Spencer's Fairy Queen, Book 4th, Canto 
 he roth : the pafTage immediately alluded to is 
 u the 2 1 ft Stanza. 
 
 For all that Nature, by her mother wit, 
 Could frame in earth and form of fubftance 
 
 bafe 
 
 Was there ; and all that Nature did omit, 
 Art (playingNature's fec.cnd part) fupplied it. 
 
 NOTE V. Verfe 453. . 
 
 That work, " tuhere net nice Art in curious knotty. 
 See Milton's inimitable defcription of the 
 garden of Eden. Paradife Loft, Book 4th, 
 part of which is here inferted. 
 
 NOTE VI. Verfe 48 1. 
 'Thou reach the Orchard, ivbere the fpar'tng turf 
 
 The French at prefent feem to be equally 
 (paring of this natural clothing of the earth, 
 although they have done us the honour to adopt 
 our Bowling-greens, and to improve upon 
 them. This appears from the following article 
 of the Encyclopedic tranfiated verbatim. 
 
 " Boulingrin. N. S. In gardening is a fpe- 
 " cies of Parterre compofed of pieces of di- 
 
 vided
 
 ( 216 ) 
 
 <f vided turf with borders doping (tn glacis) 
 (f and evergreens at the corners and other parts 
 " of it. It is mowed four times a year to make 
 " the turf finer. The invention of this kind of 
 " parterrt comes from England, as ahb its 
 <e name, which is derived from Boule, round, 
 t( and Grin, fine grafs or turf. Boulingrins 
 " are either fimple or compound; the fimple 
 " are all turf without ornament; the com- 
 " pound are cut into compartments of turf, 
 " embroidered with knots, mixt with little 
 tc paths, borders of flowers, yew-trees, and 
 " flowering fhrubs. Sand alfo of different co- 
 '' lours contributes greatly to their value." 
 
 NOTE VII. Verfe 489. 
 Surpaffing rule and artier. " TE M P L E , yes, 
 The paffage here alluded to is as follows : 
 " What I have faid of the beft forms of Gar- 
 " dens is meant only of fuch- as are in forne 
 tf fort regular; fir tb~re may be otter firmf 
 (f wbo/fy ir (gvl. r, tb; t may, for ought I know, 
 (e have more beauty tban any of the others ; but 
 " they muft owe it to fome extraordinary dif- 
 " pofitionsof Nature in the feat, or fome great 
 '* race of fancy and judgment in the contriv- 
 ance, which may reduce many difagreeing 
 
 '* parts
 
 < parts into Tome figure which fhall yet upon 
 '* the whole be very agreeable. Something of 
 '' this I have feen in fome places, and heard 
 ' more of it from others who have lived much 
 ' among the Chinefe." Sir William then 
 gives us a kind of general account of the Chi- 
 nefe tafte, and of their Sbaraivadgi, and con- 
 cludes thus: " But I fhould hardly advife any 
 of thefc attempts in the figure of gardens 
 among us, they are adventures of too hardy 
 achievement for any common hands ; and 
 though there may be more honour if they 
 fucceed well, yet there is more difhonour if 
 they fail, and it is twenty to one they will, 
 whereas in regular figures it is hard to make 
 any great and remarkable faults." See 
 M'J^ellmies , vol. I. p. 1 85. fol. edit. 
 
 NOTE VIII. Verfe493. 
 
 Ltd to tbc fair atcbievenii':-J. 
 
 I had before called Bacon the prophet, and 
 
 Vliuon the herald oi true tafte in Gardening. 
 
 The former, becaufe in developing the con'":itu- 
 
 nt properties of a princely garden, he had 
 
 argely expatiated upon thai: adorned natural 
 
 vi!daefi> which we no A" deem the ciTenc ol the 
 
 ; rt. The latter, on account of his having 
 
 made
 
 fiiade this natural wildnefs the leading idea in 
 his exquifite defcription of Paradife. I here 
 call Addifon, Pope, Kent, &c. the Champions 
 of this true tafte, becaufe they abfolutely 
 brought it into execution. The beginning 
 therefore of an actual reformation may be fixed 
 at the time when the Spectator firft appeared. 
 The reader will find an excellent chapter upon 
 this fubjecl: in the Pleafures of Imagination, 
 published in No. 414 of the Spectator ; and alfo 
 another paper written by the fame hand, No. 
 447 ; but perhaps nothing went further towards 
 deftroying the abfurd taftc of clipped evergreens 
 than the fine ridicule upon them in the I7jd 
 Guardian, written by Mr. Pope. 
 
 NOTE IX. Verfe 503. 
 
 Sweeps thro 1 each kindred Vijla ; Groves to Groves 
 See Mr. Pope's Ep^le on Falfe Tafte, in- 
 fcribed to the Earl of Burlington. Few readers, 
 I fuppofe, need be informed that this line al- 
 ludes to the following coupht : 
 Grove noa-; to G o/e, each alley has a brother, 
 And half the platform juft reflects the other. 
 
 NOTE
 
 NOT EX. Verfe 5 rr. 
 
 The pencil's power : but, fir'd by higher forms 
 .It is faid that Mr. Kent frequently declared he 
 caught his tafte in Gardening from reading the 
 Mcturefque descriptions of Spencer. However 
 his may be, the defigns he made for the works 
 of that poet are an inconteftible proof, that they 
 lad no effect upon his executive powers as a 
 winter. 
 
 NOTE XI. Verfc 522. 
 *ffiu Jimple Farm eclipsed the Garden 1 } pride, 
 Mr. Southcote was the introducer, or rather 
 the inventor of the Ferme orn<? ; for it may be 
 prefumed, that nothing more than the term is 
 of French extraction. 
 
 NOTE D. Page 145. 
 
 Camden, who lived in the days of Spenfer, 
 has dsfcribed Guy-Cliff:, in Warwickfhire, in 
 a manner that look's as if either the Tafle of his 
 time was infinitely fuperior to that of the period 
 immediately fucceeding it ; or at leafl as if the 
 Proprietor were himfelf an inftance of a Genius 
 very far tranfcending all his cotcmpcrar!es. 
 " Guy-Cliffe, nun Thomse de Bello Pago habi- 
 tatio, &qu3eipfafedcse{lam2enitatis: Nemuf;u- 
 lumibi efl opacum, f ?ntcs limpidi et g -mmci, an- 
 U tra
 
 ( 220 ) 
 
 tra mufcofa, prata Temper verna, rivi Icvis et fu- 
 furrans per faxa difcurfus, nee non folitudo, et 
 quies Mnfis amiciffima." Here is nothing fantaf- 
 tic and unnatural, which is the more extraordina- 
 ry, as Guy-Cliffe is fituated in the fame county 
 with Kennelworth, at that tune the principal feat 
 of every quaint and fumptuous departure from 
 Nature and Simplicity. 
 
 Theobalds, which Hentzner has defcribed, 
 was laid out by Lord Burleigh, who fecms to 
 have anticipated all the abfurdities we ufually 
 afcribe to a Tafte fuppofed to have been long 
 after imported from Holland; a Ditch full of 
 water, Labyrinths made with a great deal of 
 labour, and a Jet d'eau with its marble bafon, 
 constitute the principal ornaments of the place ; 
 and in a (hll earlier period, we learn that the 
 Beauty of Nonfuch, the Delight of Henry VIII. 
 ccnfilted chiefly in Groves ornamented with 
 trellis worl^, and cabinets of verdure. " At 
 Uifkelf, near Towton," fays Leland, " there 
 lives a Prebendary of York, poflefled of a good- 
 ly orchard with walks opcre topiario ;" and, in 
 the year 1538, the fame amhpr defcribes " the 
 Gardens within, and the orchards without the 
 Mete" of Wrefehi 11-Caftle, the antient feat of 
 
 the
 
 ( 221 ) 
 
 the Perceys, to have " been' exceedingly fair. 
 And in the orchards were mounts opsre topiaria t 
 writhen about with degrees like turnings of 
 cokil-fhells to cum to the top without pain." 
 
 This is all that I will add to Mr. Mafon's 
 note on this part of the fuhjecl:; I had intended 
 o have gone a great deal farther, and to have 
 :raced the hiftory of modern Gardening in Eng- 
 land as far as diligence would have fupplied me 
 with materials j but the fubje& has had the better 
 fortune to come under the agreeable, the lively, 
 and at the f ~ne time the accurate pen of Mr. 
 Walpole. With all my readers I rejoice that I 
 have been thus prevented. 
 
 Ua NOTES
 
 NOTE 
 
 UPON 
 
 BOO'K THE SECOND 
 
 AND I'TS 
 
 COMMENTARY. 
 
 - NOTE XII. Verfe 10. 
 
 Which fills the fetis with plenty. Hail that Art 
 fuuile, founded on the vulgar error 
 
 concerning the Harveft Moon, however falfe 
 in philofophy, may, it is hoped, be admitted 
 in poetry. 
 
 NOTE E. Page 152. 
 
 This rule is founded in nature and reafon, 
 
 and its univcrfal application has the fandion of 
 
 antiquity to fupport it. Quintlian, though cer- 
 
 tainly defect! ve in his tafte for Landfcapc, and 
 
 U \ even
 
 even an admirer of topiary -works, has yet iii. 
 the following paflage very well apologized for 
 that regularity which he in general applauds, 
 by making Utility and Profit, in thefe particular 
 inftances, reafons for it. " Nullufne/ri//7//ir// 
 adhibendus eft decor ? quis neget ? nam et in 
 ordinem certaque intervalla redigam rneas arbo- 
 res : quid enim illo quincunxe fpeciofius, qui, 
 in quamcunque partem fpeaveris, redus eft ? 
 fed protinus in id quoque prodeft ut terrre fuc- 
 cum aequaliter trahant. Decentior Equus cujus 
 adftri&a funt ilia, fi idem velocior. Pulcher 
 afpe&u fit Athleta cujus laccrtos exercitatio 
 cxpreflit, idem certamini paratior. Nunquam 
 vero Species ab Utilitate dividitur." Ghtinf. Inji. 
 lib. viii. cap. iii. dt Ornatu. 
 
 Cicero has elegantly obferved, " Nullam 
 partem corporis (vel hominis vel ceterarum 
 animantium) fine aliqua neceflitate affidam, 
 totamque formam quafi perfeclam reperietis 
 Arte non cafu. Quid in arboribus, in quibus 
 non truncus, non rami, non folia funt denique, 
 "nifi ad fuam retinendam, confervandamque 
 Naturam ? nufquam tamen eft ulla pars nifi 
 venuila. Linquamus Naturam, Artefque vi- 
 dcamus ', 'quid tarn in Navigio neccffariuni 
 
 quain
 
 ( 22 5 ) 
 
 quam latera, quara carinse, quam mali, quam 
 vela ? quae tamen hanc habent in fpecie venuf- 
 tatem, ut non folum falutis fed etiam voluptatis 
 causa inventa efle videantur. Columns & 
 tempi a & porticus fuftiment, tamen habent non 
 plus Utilitatis quam Dignitatis. Capitolii faf- 
 tigium illud & cseterarum /Edium non Venuf- 
 tas fed Neceflitas ipfa fabricata eft. Nam cum 
 eflet habita ratio quemamodum ex utraque 
 parte te&i aqua delaberetur, Utilitatem Templi, 
 Faftigii Dignitas confequuta eft, ut etiam, fi in 
 Coe!o Capitolium ftatueretur ubi. imber efle non 
 polTet, nullam fine Faftigio dignitatem habi- 
 turum fuifle videatur. Hoc in omnibus item 
 partibus Orationis evenit ut Utilitatem ac prope 
 Neceflitatcm fuavitas qusedam & Lepos confe- 
 quatur." Ciaron. dfOratore, lib. iii. 
 
 I might multiply quotations without end, 
 but will clofe with a paflage from the pra&ical 
 Architect Vitruvius, which may ferve as a 
 comment on the above beautiful obfervation of 
 Cicero: " Quod. non poteft in veritate fieri, id 
 non putaverent (Antiqui) in imaginibus factum, 
 poiTe etiam rationem h^bere. Omnia eniin 
 certi proprktate, & a vcris Naturse deduclis 
 
 moribus
 
 moribus traduxerunt in operum perfe&Iones ; 
 & ea probaverunt, quorum Explicationes in 
 difputationibus rationem poflunt habere Veri- 
 tatis." Vitrui). Hb. iv. cap. ii. de Ornamentit 
 Calumncrum. 
 
 NOTE XIII. Verfe 1 19. 
 
 Than does ibis fyhan Deffot. Tet to tbofe 
 
 See Book the Firft, line 84. See alfo Mr. 
 Pope's Epitllc to Lord Burlington, line 57. 
 
 Confuk the Genius of the place in all, &c. 
 
 A fundamental rule, which is here further 
 enlarged upon from line 1 26* 
 
 NOTE XIV. Verfe 222. 
 
 (And that the tyrant's plea) io work your barm. 
 Alluding to Mi'ton. 
 So fpake the Fiend, and with necsfjity, 
 The tyrant's plea, excus'd his dcv'liih deeds. 
 PARADISE LOST, book iv. line 393. 
 
 NOTE XV. Verfe 327. 
 // ci.rPdbj mimic fiu-rcs ; tbe JlenJer.-Jl t-wine 
 Linnaeus makes this a chara&eriltical proper- 
 ty of the fallow deerj liis words are, crccinr 
 
 fit
 
 f/y horizontal!. (See Syft. Nat. Art. Dama.} 
 I have fometimes feen feathers tied to this line 
 for greater fecurity, though perhaps unnecefla- 
 rily. They feem, however, to have been in 
 ufe in Virgil's time, from the following paffage 
 in the Georgicks : 
 
 Stantcircumfufa pruinis 
 
 Corpora magna bourn : eonfertoque agmine cervi 
 Torpent mole nova, et fummisvix cornibus extant. 
 Hos non emiffis canibus, non cafiibus ullis/ 
 Punicifve agttant pavidos farmidine p?nn<e : 
 Sed fruftra oppofitum trudentes peftorc montem 
 Cominus obtruncant ferro. 
 
 GEORG. lib. iii. v, 368. 
 
 Ruasus's comment on the fifth line is as fol- 
 lows : linea, out funiculus erat , cut' Plumec im- 
 plicafyantur vcriis tinflte color ibus y ad feras ter- 
 rendas, ut in retia agerentur. And a fimile, 
 which Virgil ufes in the twelfth book of the 
 ^neid, v. 749, and another rti Lucan's Pharf. 
 lib. iv. v. 437, clearly prove that the learned 
 Jefuit has rightly explained the pafTage. . 
 
 NOTE F. Page 159. 
 
 I omitted, in the Commentary, to take no- 
 tice of the Feathers which the Author has men*- 
 
 tioned
 
 ( 228 ) 
 
 tioned as a means of retraining deer, becaufe 
 in the foregoing Note he feemed to think them 
 unneceflary ; and therefore I conceived that he 
 introduced them only as a poetical embellifti- 
 ment founded merely on claffical authority ; 
 but I have fince learned that the practice ftill 
 prevails in many, perhaps all of our Englifh 
 forefts, particularly in that of Whittlebury. 
 It ihould feem, therefore, that its continu- 
 ance through ages muft be fupported by expe- 
 rience of its ufe, and that a horizontal line 
 without thefe feathers would not be a fufficient 
 obftru&ion. 
 
 NOTE XVI. Verfe4 7 fr. 
 
 *fl>e wife SiJonian liv'd : and y tbs 1 tbe pejf 
 ABDALONIMUS. The fa<5t, on which, this 
 Epifode is founded, is recorded by Diodorus 
 Siculus, Plutarch, Juftin, and Q^ Curtius ; 
 the laft is here chiefty followed. M. de Fon- 
 tenclle and the Abbt Metaftafio have both of 
 them treated the iubjecl dramatically. 
 
 NOTE
 
 NOTE G; . Page 164. 
 
 gyo? aJii, ^i>.' tsa,y\i t at 
 erlfy.yr.q, jO{ x^ w*i>y>)j Siin 
 
 irgurot nv rut e* yr,$ xas^wx TO; iuKxtri eoij 
 ^iAa>5gft)B7o ftt^ tii tv%eu t ^u^jj^tet 
 v TTQtUf, u.(M\w ffv+tyt^iv, a.u.Qietn 
 
 Maxim. Tyr. Diffcrtat. xiv. 
 
 NOTES
 
 NOTES 
 
 UPON 
 
 BOOK THE THI R D 
 
 AND ITS 
 
 COMMENTARY, 
 
 NOTE H. Page 165. 
 
 1 H E refpea Mr. Gray had for the Art of 
 Gardening, appears in his letter to Mr. How, 
 to which I have before referred my reader, (fee 
 Note B. p. IO2.) but which I fhall here infert 
 at large, becaufe I have fines been informed 
 that a Poem on the fame fubjecl: has been lately 
 publifhed in France, and is there highly efteem- 
 ed, in which the Author, like the reft of his 
 countrymen, afcribe the origin of our Gardens 
 to the Chinefe. " He (Count Algarotti) is 
 highly civil to our nation, but there is one 
 X point
 
 point in which he does not do us juftice ; I am 
 the more folicitous about it, becaufe it relates 
 to the only tafte we can call our own; the only 
 proof of our original talent in matter of plea- 
 fure, I mean our {kill in Gardening, or rather 
 laying out grounds : and this is no fmall honour 
 to us, fince neither France nor Italy have ever 
 had the lead notion of it, nor yet do at all 
 comprehend it when they fee it. That the 
 Chinefe have this beautiful art in high pe"r- 
 fe6fcion feems very probable from the Jefuit's 
 Letters, and more from Chambers's little dif- 
 courfe publiflied forne years ago ; but it is very 
 certain we copied nothing from them, nor had 
 any thing but Nature for our model. It is not 
 forty years fince the Art was born among us, 
 and as fure we then had no information on this 
 head from China at all." See Memoirs of Mr. 
 Gray, Sefl:on v. Letter viii. 
 
 In the laft fmaller Edition of Mr. Walpole's 
 Anecdotes of painting, the reader will aifo find 
 a very entertaining and important addition 
 mide to his hiftory of Gardening on this very 
 fubjet (fee vol. iv. p. 283.) which puts the 
 mitter out of all doubt. Yet it is to be obferv- 
 cd, that Mr. Gray and Mr. Walpole differ in 
 
 their
 
 ( 233 ) 
 
 their ideas of Chinefe perfeaion in this Art ; 
 But had Mr. Gray lived to fee what he calls 
 Chambers's little difcourfe enlarged into a dijfer- 
 tation tn oriental Gardening, by Sir William 
 Chambers, Knight, it is more than probable 
 he would have come over to his friend's fenti- 
 ments ; certain it is he would never have agreed 
 with the French, in calling this fpecies of Gar- 
 dening Le gout Anglo-Cbinois. 
 
 NOTE XVII. Verfeia. 
 Place I tbe Urn, the Buji, the fculptur'd Lyre y 
 
 Mr. Gray died July 31 ft, I77 1 - This 
 book was begun a few months after. The 
 three following lines allude to a ruflic alcove the 
 author was then building in his garden, in 
 which he placed a medallion of his friend, and 
 an urn ; a lyre over the entrance with the motto 
 from Pindar, which Mr. Gray had prefixt to 
 his Odes, ^fiNANTA SYNETOISI, and under it 
 on a tablet this ftanza, taken from the firft edi- 
 tion of his Elegy written in a country church- 
 yard. 
 Here fcatter'd oft, the lovelieftof the year, 
 
 By hands unfeen, are fhowers of violets found i 
 The Redbreaft loves to build and warble here, 
 
 And little footfteps lightly print the ground. 
 X2 NOTE
 
 ( 2 34 ) 
 
 NOTE XVIII. Verfe r 2 2. 
 
 iet England prize this daughter of the Eaft 
 Our common Laurel was firft brought into 
 the Low Countries A. D. 1576 (together with 
 the Horfe Chefnut) from Conftantinople, as a 
 prefent from David Ungnad, the Imperial 
 AmbafTador in Turkey, to Clufius the famous^ 
 Botanift. It was fent to him by the name of 
 Trabifon-Curmafi, or the Date of Trebifond, 
 but he named it Lauro-Cerafus. 
 
 NOTE XIX. Verfe 354. 
 Deepen your dr If ping rocfs ! tbisfevfrijb hour . 
 Thefe lines were written in June, 1778, when 
 it was remarkably hot weather. 
 
 NOTE XX. Verfe 366. 
 Shuts to the tuneful trifling of the Bard y 
 Ren! Rapin, a learned Jefuit of the laft cen- 
 tury, who wrote a didactic Latin Poem on Gar- 
 dens, in four books, by way of fupplement to 
 Virgil's Georgics. The third book treats the 
 fubject of water, or more properly of water- 
 works, for it is entirely made up of defcrip- 
 tions of jets d'eau, and fuch fort of artificial 
 baubles. 
 
 NOTE
 
 ( 235 ) 
 
 NOTE XXI. Verfe 388. 
 And winds -with Jbortsr bend* To drain tie reft 
 See Book the fecond, ver. 50 to ver. 78, 
 where the curve of beauty, or a line waving 
 very gently, is faid not only to prevail in natu- 
 ral pathways, but in the courfe of rivulets and 
 the outline of lakes. It generally does foj yet 
 in the latter it is ibmetimes found more abrupt : 
 in artificial pieces of water, therefore, (harper 
 curves may be employed than in the formation 
 of the fand or gravel- walk. 
 
 NOTE XXII. Verfe 452. 
 That facils mode which His inventive powers 
 Mr. Brindley, who executed the Duke of 
 Bridge-water's canal, and invented a method of 
 making dams to hold water without clay, ufing 
 for this purpofe any fort of earth duly tempered 
 with water. 
 
 NOTE I. Page 176. 
 
 The method of conftru&ing thefe mounds, 
 which is called " puddling," confifts only in 
 greatly moiftening and turning t- e foil (of 
 whatever natur-e it may be; in the manner 
 in which mortar is tempered ; for thus its parts 
 are brought ciofer together, and in its almoft 
 X 3
 
 fluid flate the influence of attraction is allowed tol 
 operate, to turn to each other and brin? into 
 contact thofe furfaces which are beft adapted to j 
 cohefion, a principle fo univerfal, that even in 
 fand it is fa'd it is found fo ftrong as to render it 
 after fufficient working, water-proof. Where an 
 unmeafureable weight of water was to be refift- 
 ed, I have feen the operation thus performed; 
 a deep perpendicular trench was dug out about 
 four feet wide j in this, as incident to its fituati- 
 on, the water fprung up very plentifully, and 
 into this the foil that was raifed was again re- 
 turned by degrees, being trampled and beaten, 
 and turned with fhovelb and fpades, exactly (as 
 I faid before) as if it were mortar, by which 
 means it became perfectly vifcous : beyond this 
 point labour is ufelcfs ; for attraction has taken 
 place, and no. more can be added. The prac- 
 tice, on a very confined fcale, was known be- 
 fore Brindley, but he firft developed its princi- 
 ples, applied it indifcriminatdy to every foil, 
 and ufed it to great and extenfive purpofes, and 
 therefore may juftly be allowed the honour of 
 having been the inventor. 
 
 NOTE
 
 C 237 ) 
 
 NOTE K. Page i",6. 
 
 We fo feldom fee the rock-work of thefe arti- 
 ficial Cafcades well executed, that perfons of a 
 refined pi&urefque tafte are a"pt to explode 
 them, and to think of them as they do of arti- 
 ficial Ruins and imitative Buildings, that they 
 ought never to be put into execution. Our 
 Author, however, has ventured to recommend 
 both, the one here, and the other in the fuc- 
 ceeding book ; and this^ in my opinion, very 
 juftly, becaufe the arguments againft their ufe. 
 are founded only on that abufe which has taken- 
 away all likenefs from the imitation : and^ 
 furely, that they have been ill imitated affords 
 no reafon that they cannot be well imitated ; on 
 the contrary, there is great reafon to attempt a 
 copy upon better principles, and execute it 
 with truer tafte, becaufe there are fcenes and 
 fituations in Nature which abfolutely call for 
 fuch objeds to give them their laft and finifhed 
 perfection. It is as neceflary, therefore, for 
 the Gardener to- fupply them upon his living 
 canvafs, as for the Landscape Fainter to diiplay 
 them upon his dead one ; and he is capable of 
 doing this, becaufe he has {bmetimes actually 
 done it with full effect 
 
 NOTE
 
 C 238 ) 
 
 NOTE XXIII. Verfe4 7 r. 
 
 Rejoice ; as if the tbunfring Tees b'tmjdf 
 The fall of the Tees, near Middleton in 
 Yorkfhire, is efteemed one of the greatefl in 
 England. 
 
 NOTE XXIV. Verfe 49 2. 
 A Naiad dwells : LlNEA is her name: 
 This idea was conceived in a very retired 
 grove at Papplewick in Nottinghamfhire, the 
 feat of Frederick Montagu, Efq; who has 
 long honoured me with his friendfliip, where 
 a little clear trout-ftream (dignified perhaps too 
 much by the name of a River) gurgles very 
 delicioufly. This ftream is called the Lin, and 
 thefpring itfelf rifes but a little way from his 
 plantations. Hence the name of this Naiad is 
 formed. The village itfelf, which is fituated 
 on the edge of the foreft of Sherwood, has not 
 been without poetical notice before, Ben 
 Johnfon having taken fome of his Dramatis 
 Perfonee fro.n it, in his unfinifhed Pailoral Co- 
 rned/, called Tbe Sad Shepherd. 
 
 NOTE
 
 NOTE XXV. Verfe 512. 
 
 'To Commerce and to Care. In Margaret's grove, 
 St. John's College in Cambridge, founded 
 by Margaret Countefs of Richmond, mother 
 of Henry the Seventh. 
 
 NOTE XXVI. Verfe 528. 
 
 Wbojlole the gift of Thetis. Hence the caufe, 
 Alluding to the Ode to a Water Nymph, 
 which the Author wrote a year or two after his 
 admiflion into the univerfity. See bis P<iems t 
 Odt II. 
 
 NOTES
 
 NOTES 
 
 UPON 
 
 BOOK THE FOURTH 
 
 AND ITS 
 
 COMMENTARY. 
 
 NOTE XXVII. Verfe 101. 
 A time-fir tick Abbey. An impending grovf 
 
 AT was faid in the firft Book, ver. 384, that 
 of thofe architectural objects which improved a 
 fine natural Englijb profpecl, the two principal 
 were the Cajlle and the Abbey. In conformity 
 with this idea, ALCANDER firft begins to exer- 
 cife his tafte, by forming a refemblance of thofe 
 two capital artificial features, uniting them, 
 however, with utility. The precept is here 
 meant to be conveyed by defcription, which 
 
 had
 
 had before been given more dire&ly in Book II. 
 ver. 21. 
 
 Beauty fcorns to dwell 
 Where Ufe is exil'd. 
 
 NOTE L. Page 182. 
 
 If we confider how Gothic Edifices were 
 originally conftru&ed, it will appear how very 
 defectively they have been, for the moft part, 
 imitated. In order, therefore, to obviate this 
 practice, I will here give a fummary and brief 
 defcription both of fuch as were Military and 
 Ecclefiaiiical. 
 
 The GOTHIC CASTLE, or military ftruc- 
 ture, confided in every inftance of the Keep 
 or Strong-hold, and the Court or Enclofure 
 annexed to the Keep. 
 
 The KEEP was a great and high tower* 
 either round or fquare, for the moft part fituated 
 on an artificial elevation, the entire top of 
 which it ufually occupied. Advantage alfo was 
 frequently taken of a naturally high fituation. 
 
 If the tower was fquare, it often had annexed 
 to it fquare projections, generally at the corners, 
 
 and
 
 and about mid-way between them, to at as 
 buttrefles, of which, however, they do not 
 carry the appearance, as they exhibit a front 
 greater than their projection, and do not dimi- 
 nifh in their projection as they afcend. When 
 round, I have frequently feen the Keep, with- 
 out any buttrefs whatever. 
 
 The great Portal or door of entrance into the 
 Keep, was always at the leaft one floor high 
 from the ground, and was ufually entered by 
 means of an external flair-cafe and veftibule, 
 which was ftrongly fortified. This ftair-cafe led 
 only fo high as the portal, and the landing- 
 place at the head confifted for the mod part of a 
 draw-bridge which was worked from within the 
 Keep, and which, when raifed, not only cut 
 off all communication, but by leaning againft 
 and ccver'.ng the portal, fcrved exceedingly to 
 ftrentthe i it againft an enemy that might already 
 have taken pofTeffion of the veftibule and ftair- 
 cafe. 
 
 There was feldom any aperture for a confi- 
 
 d;:rable height from the ground ; and as the 
 
 apartments of the Lord or Commander of the 
 
 Caftle were near the top, it was only there that 
 
 Y any
 
 ( 244 ) 
 
 any aperture appeared which exceeded the fize 
 of a loop, and even there the windows were of 
 but fmall dimenfions. 
 
 The Keep was ufually embattled at top, but 
 : the battlements have in general been defaced by 
 ;time and ruin. 
 
 The wall of the COURT, or Enclofure was 
 always conne&ed with the Keep, and the en- 
 trance into it was ufually by a great arch 
 jftrongly fortified, and pafling between two 
 towers connected by the wall through which the 
 arched- way was carried. There was never any 
 great arch in the Keep itfelf. 
 > 
 
 As the wall commenced at the Keep at both 
 fides, it was coni'monly carried down the hill, 
 and frequently comprehended not only the de- 
 fcent but alfo a part of the plain beneath. 
 
 The height of the wall, where it joined the 
 Keep, was fomet'mes regulated by the height 
 of the great portal that led to the principal 
 apartments, which, for the mod part, occupi- 
 ed the third ftory ; for the ftair-cafe, by which 
 this was appro.ichid, was often built within 
 
 the
 
 ( 245 ) 
 
 the fubftance of the wall itfelf, in which cafe 
 there was no other external veftibulc. 
 
 Loops were frequently made in the wa'l of 
 the Enclofure ; for it was of fuch dimenfions as 
 not only to contains paflage for maintaining a 
 communication among the parts of the fortrefs 
 within its thicknefs, but had fometimes even 
 apartments either for confinement of prifoners, 
 or for ftorcs.. 
 
 The reader, who wiffees for farther informa- 
 tion on this fubjer., is referred to Mr. King's 
 ingenious and accurate Obfirvations on ancient 
 Co/lies, 
 
 ECCLESIASTICAL BUILDINGS, or ABBIES> 
 confided generally of the great Church, a Re- 
 fectory, a Chapter-Houfe, and a Cloyfter, 
 with the neceflary accommodations of Kitcheiv, 
 Dormitory, &c. 
 
 The CHURCH was ufual'y in the form of a 
 crofs, in the center of which rofe the tower. 
 From eaft to weft it was always considerably 
 longer than from north to fouth. 
 
 Y2 The
 
 The great weft end was the place of entrance 
 jnto the Church ; here, therefore, the greateft 
 degree of ornament was bellowed both on the, 
 portal and the window over it. 
 
 The lateral walls were ftrengthencd by buN 
 trefles which always diminlftied as they rofe, 
 and between every two windows was a buttrefs. 
 
 Within, the infulated columns ran in row$. 
 correfponding with the -buttreflcs without. 
 
 As a crofs affords two fides to each of many 
 fquares, one of thefe fquares was ufually corn- 
 pleated, and the other two fides were fupplied, 
 the one by the cloyfter, which was frequently 
 carried in length from north to fouth, and the 
 other by the refectory and chapter-houfe, which 
 flood at right angles with this cloyfter, and 
 parallel to the body of the Church from eaft 
 to weft. 
 
 The cloyfter was fometimes carried into- 
 length, and fometimes furrounded a fq-:are 
 court ; over the cloyfter was the cuftomary 
 place for the dormitory. 
 
 None
 
 None of the parts of the Abbey at all ap- 
 roached to the height of the Church. 
 
 The great pointed arch was an invention 
 uhfeqiunt to the building of many Abbies, 
 hich have fmaH round-topped windows ; 
 lefe, therefore, may very well be placed in 
 ie fides of the Church ; but in the weft end, 
 >r the moft part, .the pointed, arch was intro- 
 uced as a high ornament by fucceeding Ar- 
 
 There never was built an external column,- 
 or an internal buttrefs ; miniature imitations 
 of thefe were indeed promifcuoufly introduced 
 among the fmaller ornaments of the building ; 
 but the rule is invariably true with regard to the 
 great ftru&ure itfelf. 
 
 The (lone-work of Gothic buildings was ve- 
 ry neatly hewn and jointed ; and even now 
 their very ruins are by no means rough on the 
 furface, except in the immediate neighbour- 
 hood of the fpot where time has made a breach, 
 or where they have been flripped of their caf- 
 ing. 
 
 Y 3 Though
 
 ( 248 } 
 
 Though the rules of Gothic Archite&ure 
 have Tiot been fo diligently inquired into as 
 thofe of the Greek, yet certain we may be,. 
 from the refemblance which prevails, not only 
 in the whofe, but in the parts of all great Go- 
 thic edifices among themfelves, that they were 
 conftru&ed upon rules which it would be better 
 for us to inveftigate than difpenfe with in favour 
 of the filly caprices which we daily fee execut- 
 ed under the name of GOTHIC BUILDINGS, 
 to the difgrace of our Obfervation and'Tafte. I. 
 have feen a Gothic Temple, an open Gothic 
 Portico, a Gothic Cupola, and I have fecn ai* 
 arched Gothic Rotunda ! 
 
 Magnitude is a fine qua non of Gothic Ar-. 
 chite&ure. 
 
 I have been forced to make ufe of the quali- 
 fying terms ufually, far the mojl fart, ~&c. be- 
 caufe I cannot fay that any of thefe rules, 
 though general, are without, perhaps, many 
 exceptions. I am writing, not for the benefit 
 of the Gothic Architect, but his pidurefque 
 Imitator, for whom thefc few precepts and cau- 
 tions, I truft, will be found fufficiently pre- 
 
 ciftw 
 
 The
 
 ( 249 
 
 The reader will not fuppofe, that by thus de- 
 lineating the rules by which thefe two forts of 
 wcdifices were conftrucled, I recommend to the 
 imitator an exact copy of the whole of either, 
 much lefs that I would wifh him to execute on a 
 fmall fcale what can only have probability when 
 practifed on a great one. I. only require a judi- 
 cious fele&ion of the parts of fuch buildings, 
 and that each may be mads with exactnefs' to 
 occupy its proper place. A remnant of the 
 Keep, of the great gate of entrance, or even 
 of a fingle tower, with an additional length of 
 ruined wall, will frequently anfwer the purpofe 
 of imitation in the military ftyle very complete- 
 ly, while a (ingle high-arched window of por- 
 tal, part of a low groyned cloyfter, and a few 
 mutilated columns juftly arranged within the 
 fuppofed body of the Church, will equally well 
 anfwer it in the eccle (radical ftyle : ' But the 
 general faults that have prevailed in thefe. kinds 
 of imitation are, firft, that of defigning too 
 much, perhaps a whole ; fecondly, the execut- 
 ing that whole upon a pigmy fcale ; thirdly, 
 the introduction of a capricious mode of orna- 
 ment : and, laftly, a total neglect of the real 
 pofition of the parts. The beft, perhaps the 
 
 only
 
 ( 250 ) 
 
 only good rule that can be followed, is to copy 
 fome beautiful fragment of an ancient ruin 
 with the fame fidelity that one would copy^ 
 portrait, and happily for our purpofe England 
 abounds with fuch fragments ; but let us ever 
 avoid invention where our proper bufinefs is 
 only imitation. 
 
 The defcription of Alcander's manfion re- 
 markably coincides with Leland the Antiquary's 
 account of Greenwich in its antient ftate. 
 Ecce ut jam niteat locus petirus,, 
 Tanquam fyderece domus cathedra; ! 
 Quse fafligia pitta! quse feneftrae ! 
 Qucc turres \e! ad aftra-fe tffcrtn.'es ! 
 
 Ktwifio 'Acr^a, ver. 310. 
 
 Leland died A- D. 1552, 
 
 NOTE XXVIII. Verfe 131. 
 
 And fright the local Genius from the fccne. 
 
 A precept is here rather more than hinted at ; 
 but it appeared to be fo well founded, and yet 
 fo feluom attended to by the fabricators of 
 Grottos, that it fecmed neceflary to flide back 
 a little from the narrative into the didactic to 
 inculcate it the more ftrongly. 
 
 NOTE
 
 NOTE XXIX. Verfe 157. 
 
 Hit Galatea: Tes, tV imfaffioi? d .Tsutb 
 Alluding to a Letter of that famous Painter, 
 written to his Friend Count Baltafar Caf- 
 glione, when he was painting his celebrated 
 i&ure of Galatea, in which he tells him, */"- 
 fends carejlia di belle donne, is. mi Jer-vo di cert a 
 idea cbe view alia menie. See Bellori Dijtriz. 
 delle imagini dipinte da Raffaelle d'Urbino, or 
 the Life of B. Caftiglione, prefixt to the Lon- 
 don Edition of his Book entitled, // Csrtegiano, 
 
 NOTE XXX. Verfe 201. 
 Irregular , yet not in patches quaint, 
 There is nothing in pi&urefque Gardening 
 which fhould not have its archetype in unadorn- 
 ed Nature. Now, as we never fee any of her 
 plains dotted with diflevered patches of any fort 
 of vegetables, except, perhaps, fome of her 
 more barren heaths, where even Furze can 
 grow but fparingly, and which form the moil 
 difagreeable of her fcenes ; therefore the prefent 
 common mode of dotting clumps of flowers, or 
 fhrubs on a grafs-plot, without union, and 
 without other meaning than that of appearing 
 irregular, ought to be avoided. It is the form 
 
 and
 
 andeafy flow of. the grafly interfaces (if I may 
 focall them) that the defigner ought firft to have 
 a regard to ; and if thefe be well formed, the 
 fpaces for flowers or fhrubbery will be at the 
 fame time afcertained. 
 
 NOTE XXXI. Verfe 218. 
 
 Might fafely flour ijb ; where the Citron facet, 
 M. Le Giradin, in an elegant French EfTay, 
 written on the fame fubjer., and formed on the 
 fame principles, with this Poem, is the only 
 writer that I have feen (or at leafl recollect) who 
 has attempted to give a ftove or hot-houfe a pic- 
 turefque- cffet- It is his hint, purfued and 
 confiderably dilated, which forms the defcription 
 of A LCANDER'S Confervatory. See his Eflav, 
 
 De la comfsjitjon des Pay/ages. Gen. 1777. 
 
 NOTE XXXII. Verfe 358. 
 
 The Linnets warble >. captive none, but lur^d 
 See Rouffeau's charming defcription of the 
 Garden of Julie, N^.welle Ehife, ^.partie, left. 
 iitb. In confequence of purfuing his idea, 
 no birds are introduced into ALCANDER'S 
 Menagerie, but fuch as are either domefticated, 
 or chufe tovifitit for the fecurity and food they 
 
 find
 
 "find there. If any of my more delicate rea- 
 ders wifh to have theirs flocked with rarer kind 
 of fowls, they muft invent a .pi&urefque Bird- 
 cage for themfelves. 
 
 NOTE XXXIII. Verfe 427. 
 
 Tilly like fatlgu'd VlLLARiO, foon we find 
 See Pope's Epiftle to Lord Burlington, ver. 
 88. 
 
 NOTE XXXIV. Verfe 448. 
 
 77>o' foreign from the foil, provokes tby frown. 
 
 It is hoped that, from the pofition of this 
 River-God in the menagerie ; from the (ituation 
 of the bufts and vafes in the flower-garden ; 
 and that of the flatue in the confervatory, 
 the reader will deduce the following general 
 precept, " that all adventitious ornaments of 
 fculpture ought either to be accompanied with a 
 proper back-ground (as the Painters term it) 
 or introduced as a part of architectural fcenery; 
 and that when, on the contrary, t icy are plac- 
 ed in open lawns or parterres, according to the 
 old mode, they become, like Antaeus and 
 Enceladus mentioned in the beginning of this 
 book, mere f:-r,\> -crows"
 
 NOTE XXXV. Verfe 462. 
 rt If true, bere only." Tbus> in Milton's pbrafe 
 See Milton's Paradife Loft, b. iv. ver. 248- 
 &c. 
 
 NOTE XXXVI. Verfe 499. 
 
 *To tbofetbat tend the dying. Both the youths 
 Thefe lines are taken from the famous paflage 
 in Hippocrates in his book of Prognoses, which 
 has been held fo accurately defcriptive, that dying 
 perfons are, from hence, ufually faid to have 
 the fades Hippocratica. The paflage is as follow : 
 
 Pj o|ir, o$aXp>i xotAci, x3TJ(^ 
 
 v~ fuEr?.f*, }y o ?.ooot Tat ui 
 
 TJ ^ x^ /xtAatu lo> xj irsAic* 
 
 NOTE XXXVII. Verfe 646. 
 
 /7<? />/W/ /^^/ riZ {A' : it Jeemd a Herm;t"s ccll\ 
 
 If this building is found to be in its right 
 pofition, ftru&ures of the fame kind will be 
 thought improperly placed when fituated, as 
 they frequently are, on an eminence com- 
 manding an extenfive profpcct. I have either 
 feen or heard of one of this kind, where the 
 builder feemed to be fo niud, convinced of its 
 
 incou 
 I
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 THE UNIVEI^ArY LIBRARY 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 
 
 KOV 1 ? 1^ REC'D 
 
 SEP 161 
 jNTERIiBBARY 
 
 AU629 1966