That one among so many overleap'd The limits of control, his gentle eye Grew stern, and darted a severe rebuke:
His frown was full of terror, and his voice Shook the delinquent with such fits of awe As left him not, till penitence had won Lost favour back again, and clos'd the breach. But Discipline, a faithful servant long, Declin'd at length into the vale of years: A palsy struck his arm; his sparkling eye
Was quench'd in rheums of age; his voice, un
Grew tremulous, and mov'd derision more Than rev'rence in perverse rebellious youth. So colleges and halls neglected much
Their good old friend; and Discipline at length, O'erlook'd and unemploy'd, fell sick and died.
WHO loves a garden loves a green-house 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 flourishes. The golden boast Of Portugal and western India there, The ruddier orange, and the paler lime, Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm, And seem to smile at what they need not fear. Th' amomum there with intermingling flow'rs And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts Her crimson honours, 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
Live there, and prosper. Those Ausonia claims,
Levantine regions these; th' Azores send Their jessamine, her jessamine remote Caffraia: foreigners from many lands, They form one social shade, as if conven'd' By magic summons of th' Orphean lyre. Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass But by a master's hand, disposing well
diversities of leaf and flow'r,
Must lend its aid t' illustrate all their charms, And dress the regular yet various sccne. 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 musick 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 Unsung, and many cares are yet behind,
And more laborious; cares on which depend Their vigour, injur'd soon, not soon restor❜d. The soil must be renew'd, which, often wash'd, Loses its treasure of salubrious salts,
And disappoints the roots; the slender roots Close interwoven, where they meet the vase, Must smooth be shorn away; the sapless branch Must fly before the knife; the wither'd leaf Must be detach'd, and where it strews the floor, Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else Contagion, and disseminating death.
Discharge but these kind offices, (and who Would spare, that loves them, offices like these?) Well they reward the toil. The sight is pleas'd, The scent regal'd, each odorif'rous leaf, Each op'ning blossom, freely breaths abroad Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets.
HARK! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright;- He comes, the herald of a noisy world,
With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen locks;
News from all nations lumb'ring at his back. True to his charge, the close-pack'd load behind, Yet careless what he brings, his one concern Is to conduct it to the destin'd inn; And, having dropp'd th' expected bag, pass on. He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch, Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some; To him indiff'rent whether grief or joy. Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks,
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