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In the soft medium, till they stand immers’d.
Then rise the tender germs, upstarting quick,
And spreading wide their spongy lobes, at first
Pale, wan, and livid, but assuming soon,
If fann’d by bålmy and nutritious air,
Straind 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 sprout,
And interdicts its growth. Thence straight 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 soon supply
Large foliage, overshadowing golden flowers,
Blown on the fummit of th' apparent fruit.
These have their sexes, and when summer shines
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 so when winter scowls. Aliftant art
Then acts in nature's office, brings to pass
The glad espousals, and insures the crop.
Grudge not, ye rich, (since 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 suspense, That ye may garnish your profuse regales With summer 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 swarming flies, Minute as dust and numberless, oft work Dire disappointinent 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 so severe
Devises, while he guards his tender trust,
And oft, at last, in vain. The learn'd and wise
Sarcastic would exclaim, and judge the song
Cold as its theme, and, like its theme, the fruit
Of too much labor, worthless when produc'de
Who loves a garden, loves a green-houfe too,
Unconscious of a less propitious clime,
There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug,
While the winds whistle and the Snows descend.
The spiry myrtle with unwith’ring leaf
Shines there and Aourishes. The golden boast
Of Portugal and western India there,
The ruddier orange and the paler lime,
Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm,
And seem to smile at what they need not fear.
Th’amomum there with intermingling flow'rs
And cherries hangs her twigs,
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 screen'd from his shrewd bite,
Live there and prosper. Those Ausonia claims,
Levantine regions thefes th' Azores fend
Their jessamine, her jessamine remote
Caffraia ; foreigners from many lands,
They form one social shade, as if conven'd
By magic fummons of th’Orphean lyre.
Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass
But by a master's hand, disposing well
The gay divessities of leaf and flow'r,
Must lend its aid t'illustrate all their charms,
And dress the regular yet various scene,
Plant behind plant aspiring, in the van
The dwarfish, in the rear retir'd, but still
Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand.
So once were rang'd the sons of ancient Rome,
A noble show! while Roscius trod the stage;
And so, while Garrick, as renown'd as he,
The sons of Albion ; fearing each to lose
Some note of Nature's music from his lips,
And covetous of Shakespeare's beauty; seen
In ev'ry Aash of his far-beaming eye. '
Nor taste alone and well-contriv'd display
Suffice to give the marshalld ranks the grace
Of their complete effect. Much yet remains
Unsung, and many cares are yet behind,
And more laborious; cares on which depend
Their vigor, injur'd soon, not foon reftor’d.
The soil must be renew'd, which, often wash’d,
Loses its treasure of falubrious salts,
And disappoints the roots; the fender roots
Close interwoven, where they meet the vase ·
Must sinooth be shorn away; the fapless branch
Muit fly before the knife; the wither'd leaf
Must be detach'd, and where it strews the floor
Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else
Contagion, and disseminating death.
Discharge but these kind offices, (and who