In the foft medium, till they ftand immers❜d. Then rise the tender germs, upstarting quick, And spreading wide their spongy lobes, at first Pale, wan, and livid, but affuming foon,
If fann'd by balmy and nutritious air,
Strain'd through the friendly mats, a vivid green. Two leaves produc'd, two rough indented leaves, Cautious, he pinches from the second stalk
A pimple, that portends a future fprout,
And interdicts its growth. Thence ftraight fucceed The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish,
Prolific all, and harbingers of more.
The crowded roots demand enlargement now, And transplantation in an ampler space. Indulg'd in what they wish, they foon supply Large foliage, overshadowing golden flowers, Blown on the fummit of th' apparent fruit. These have their fexes, and when fummer fhines The bee transports the fertilizing meal
From flow'r to flow'r, and ev'n the breathing air
Wafts the rich prize to its appointed use. Not fo when winter fcowls. Affiftant art Then acts in nature's office, brings to pafs The glad efpoufals, and infures the crop.
Grudge not, ye rich, (fince luxury must have His dainties, and the world's more num'rous half Lives by contriving delicates for you)
Grudge not the cost. Ye little know the cares, The vigilance, the labor, and the skill,
That day and night are exercis'd, and hang Upon the ticklish balance of fufpenfe,
That ye may garnish your profufe regales With fummer fruits brought forth by wintry funs. Ten thousand dangers lie in wait to thwart
The process. Heat and cold, and wind and steam, Moisture and drought, mice, worms, and fwarming flies, Minute as duft and numberless, oft work
Dire disappointment that admits no cure,
And which no care can obviate. It were long,
Too long, to tell th' expedients and the shifts
Which he that fights a season fo fevere
Devises, while he guards his tender trust,
And oft, at laft, in vain. The learn'd and wife Sarcaftic would exclaim, and judge the song Cold as its theme, and, like its theme, the fruit Of too much labor, worthlefs when produc'd.
Who loves a garden, loves a green-house too, Unconscious of a lefs propitious clime, There blooms exotic beauty, warm and fnug, While the winds whistle and the fnows defcend.
The fpiry myrtle with unwith'ring leaf
Shines there and flourishes. The golden boaft Of Portugal and weftern India there, The ruddier orange and the paler lime,
Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm, And seem to smile at what they need not fear. Th' amomum there with intermingling flow'rs And cherries hangs her twigs, Geranium boafts
Her crimson honors, and the spangled beau, Ficoides, glitters bright the winter long.
All plants, of ev'ry leaf, that can endure
The winter's frown, if fcreen'd from his fhrewd bite, Live there and profper. Thofe Aufonia claims,
Levantine regions thefe; th' Azores fend
Their jeffamine, her jeffamine remote Caffraia; foreigners from many lands, They form one focial fhade, as if conven'd By magic fummons of th' Orphean lyre. Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass But by a master's hand, difpofing well The gay diverfities of leaf and flow'r, Muft lend its aid t' illustrate all their charms, And drefs the regular yet various scene. Plant behind plant afpiring, in the van The dwarfish, in the rear retir'd, but still Sublime above the reft, the statelier stand. So once were rang'd the fons of ancient Rome, A noble show! while Rofcius trod the stage; And fo, while Garrick, as renown'd as he,
The fons of Albion; fearing each to lose Some note of Nature's mufic from his lips, And covetous of Shakespeare's beauty, seen In ev'ry flash of his far-beaming eye. Nor taste alone and well-contriv'd display Suffice to give the marshall'd ranks the grace Of their complete effect. Much yet remains Unfung, and many cares are yet behind,
And more laborious; cares on which depend Their vigor, injur'd foon, not foon restor❜d. The foil must be renew'd, which, often wash'd, Lofes its treasure of falubrious falts,
And disappoints the roots; the flender roots Close interwoven, where they meet the vase Muft fmooth be fhorn away; the faplefs branch Muft fly before the knife; the wither'd leaf Must be detach'd, and where it ftrews the floor Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else Contagion, and diffeminating death.
Difcharge but these kind offices, (and who
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