The fence withdrawn, he gives them ev'ry beam,
And spreads his hopes before the blaze of day.
To raise the prickly and green-coated gourd,
So grateful to the palate, and when rare
So coveted, else base and disesteem'd-
Food for the vulgar merely-is an art
That toiling ages have but just matur'd,
And at this moment unessay'd in song.

Yet gnats have had, and frogs and mice, long since,
Their eulogy; those sang the Mantuan bard,
And these the Grecian, in ennobling strains;
And in thy numbers, Philips, shines for aye
The solitary shilling. Pardon, then,
Ye sage dispensers of poetick fame,
T'h' ambition of one meaner far, whose pow'rs,
Presuming an attempt not less sublime,
Pant for the praise of dressing to the taste
Of critick appetite, no sordid fare,

A cucumber, while costly yet and scarce.
The stable yields a stercoraceous heap,
Impregnated with quick fermenting salts,
And potent to resist the freezing blast:
For ere the beech and elm have cast their leaf
Deciduous, when now November dark
Checks vegetation in the torpid plant
Expos'd to his cold breath, the task begins.
Warily, therefore, and with prudent heed,
He seeks a favour'd spot; that where he builds
Th' agglomerated pile his frame may front
The sun's meridian disk, and at the back
Enjoy close shelter, wall, or reeds, or hedge
Impervious to the wind. First he bids spread
Dry fern or litter'd hay, that may imbibe
Th' ascending damps; then leisurely impose,
And lightly shaking it with agile hand
From the full fork, the saturated straw.

What longest binds the closest forms secure
The shapely side, that as it rises takes,
By just degrees, an overhanging breath,
Shelt'ring the base with its projected eaves;
Th' uplifted frame, compact at ev'ry joint,
And overlaid with clear translucent glass,
He settles next upon the sloping mount,
Whose sharp declivity shoots off secure
From the dash'd pane the deluge as it falls.
He shuts it close, and the first labour ends.
Thrice must the voluble and restless Earth
Spin round upon her axle, ere the warmth,
Slow gath'ring in the midst, through the square mass
Diffus'd, attain the surface; when, behold!
A pestilent and most corrosive stream,
Like a gross fog Baotian, rising fast,
And fast condens'd upon the dewy sash,
Asks egress? which obtain'd, the overcharg'd
And drench'd conservatory breathes abroad,
In volumes wheeling slow the vapour dank;
And, purified, rejoices to have lost

Its foul inhabitant. But to assuage

Th' impatient fervour, which it first conceives
Within its reeking bosom, threat'ning death
To his young hopes, requires discreet delay.
Experience, slow preceptress, teaching oft
The way to glory by miscarriage foul,
Must prompt him, and admonish how to catch
Th' auspicious moment, when the temper'd heat,
Friendly to vital motion, may afford

Soft fomentaion, and invite the seed.

The seed, selected wisely, plump, and smooth,
And glossy, he commits to pots of size
Diminutive, well fill'd with well-prepar'd
And fruitful soil, that has been treasur'd long,
And drank no moisture from the dripping clouds.

These on the, warm and genial earth that hides
The smoking manure, and o'erspreads it all,
He places lightly, and, as time subdues
The rage of fermentation, plunges deep
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 balmy and nutritious air,

Strain'd through the friendly mats, a vivid green.
Two leaves produc'd, two rough indented loaves,
Cautious he pinches from the second stalk
A pimple that portends a future sprout,

And interdicts its growth. Thence straight succeed
The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish;

Prolifick all, and habingers 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 flow'rs,
Blown on the summit of the apparent fruit.

These have their sexes; and when summer shines,
The bee transports the fertilizing meal

From flow'r to flow'r, and e'en the breathing air
Wafts the rich prize to its appointed use.
Not so when winter scowls. Assistant Art
Then acts in Nature's office, brings to pass
The glad espousals, and ensures 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 labour, 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 suns.
Ten thousand dangers lie in weight to thwart

The process. Heat, and cold, and wind, and stream,
Moisture and drought, mice, worms, and swarming
Aies,

Minute as dust, 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 so severe
Devises while he guard's his tender trust;
And oft at last in vain. The learn'd and wise
Sarcastick would exclaim, and judge the song
Cold as its theme, and like its theme the fruit
Of too much labour, worthless when produc'd.
Who loves a garden loves a green-house too
Unconscious of a less propitious clime,

There blooms exotick 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.
The amomrum there with intermingling flow'rs
And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts
Her crimson honours; and the spangled beau,
Ficoides glilters 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 these; th' Azores send
Their jessamine, her jessamine remote
Caffraria foreigners from many lands,
They form one social shade, as if conven'd

By magick summons of th' Orphean lyre.
Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass
But by a master's hand, disposing well
The gay diversities 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 Roscins 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 Shakspeare's beauty, seen
In ev'ry flash of his far-beaming eye,

Nor taste alone and well contriv'd display
Sufficed 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 repay the toil. The sight is pleased,
The scent regal'd, each odorif'rous leaf,
Each op'ning blossom, freely breathes abroad