Sivut kuvina

And many a night fhall feed thy cracklings mills
With richeft offerings: while thy far feen flames,
Bursting thro' many a chimney, bright emblaze
The Aethiop brow of night. And fee, they pour
(Ere phosphor his pale circlet yet withdraws,
What time grey dawn ftands tip-toe on the hill,)
O'er the rich Cane-grove: Mufe, their labour fing.

Some bending, of their fapleís burden eafe
The yellow ointed canes (whose height exceeds
A mounted trooper, and whofe clammy round
Measures two inches full;) and near the root
Lop the item off which quivers in their hand
With fond impatience: foon it's branchy fpires,
(Food to thy cattle) it refigns; and foon
It's tender prickly tops, with eyes thick fet,
To load with future crops thy long-hoed land.
Thefe with their green, their pliant branches

(For not a part of this amazing plant,

But ferves fome ufeful purpose) charge the young:
Not laziness from it's leafy pallet crawls,

To join the favoured gang. What of the Cane
Remains, and much the largest part remains,
Cut into junks a yard in length, and tied

In finall light bundles; load the broad-wheel'd


The mules crook-harneft, and the sturdier crew,
With fweet abundance. As on Lincoln-plains
(Ye plains of Lincoln found your Dyer's praife!)
When the lay'd fnow-white flocks are numerous

The fenior fwains, with Charpen'd fhears, cut off
The fleecy veftment; others ftir the tar;
And fome imprefs, upon their captives fides,
Their mafter's cypher; while the infant throng
Strive by the horns to hold the ftruggling ram,
Proud of their prowels. Nor meanwhile the jeft
Light-bandied round, but innocent of ill;

Nor choral fong are wanting; eccho rings,

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Grainger.. Nor need the driver, Aethiop authoriz❜d,
Thence more inhuman, crack his horrid whip;
From fuch dire founds the indignant Mufe averts
Her virgin-ear, where mufick loves to dwell:
'Tis malice now, 'tis wantonness of power
To lafh the laughing, labouring, finging throng.

What cannot fong? all nature feels its power:
The hind's blithe whiftle, as thro' ftubborn foils
He drives the fhining fhare; more than the goad,
His tardy fteers impells. - The Mufe hath feen,
When health danc'd frolic in her youthful veins
And vacant gambols wing'd the laughing hours;
The Mufe hath feen on Annan's paftoral hills.
Of theft and flaughter erft the fell retreat,
But now the fhepherd s beft beloved walk.
Hath feen the fhepherd, with his fylvan pipe,
Lead on his flock o'er crags, thro' bogs, and

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A tedious journey; yet not weary they,

Drawn by the enchantment of his artlefs fong.
What cannot mufick! When brown Ceres afks
The reaper's fickle; what like magic found,
Puff'd from fonorous bellows by the fqueeze
Of tuneful artist, can the rage difarm

Of the swart dog-star, and make harvest light?




Eben so sehr, als sich die englische Nation in den neus ern Zeiten durch den edelsten und größten Geschmack in der Gartenkunft auszeichnet, unterscheidet sie sich auch durch den vorzüglichen Werth mancher ihrer prosaischen und poe tischen Schriften über diese Kunst. Unter den leztern ist das aus vier Büchern bestehende Gedicht, The English Garden, von dem noch lebenden, auch in andern Gattungen sehr glücklichen Dichter, William Mason, M. A. Nach der neuesten vollständigern Ausgabe, mit dem ausführlichen Kommentar und Anmerkungen von Dr. Burgh, hat es Hr. Benzler im ersten Bande seiner Poetical Library abdrucken laffen, und es wird hier daher an nachstehender kurzen Proz be genug seyn. Das erste Buch enthält die allgemeinen Grundsäge der Gartenkunst, welche mit den Regeln der Schönheit in der Landschaftsmahlerei die nämlichen sind, wobei zugleich das Zwecklose der französischen und niederländis schen Manier im Gartenbau gezeigt wird. Im zweiten Bus che wird der Hauptgegenstand praktischer behandelt, und die Vertheilung des Plans zu einem reizenden Garten, im englis schen Geschmack, einzeln zergliedert; den Schluß dieses Buchs macht die, hier mitgetheilte, aus dem Curtius be kannte Geschichte des sidonischen Kdnigs Abdolonimus. Das dritte Buch betrifft die Verschönerung der Gårten durch Waffer und Gehölz; und das vierte die künstlichen Verzierungen von architektonischer, und andrer, zum Theil fehlerhafter, Art. Auch hier ist eine, ziemlich lange, rührende Erzählung ein, gewebt. Bei aller Anerkennung der mannichfaltigen Schöns heiten dieses Gedichts, wünschten die englischen Kunstrichter doch einstimmig, daß der Verf. lieber den Reim, als die reimlosen Jamben, oder blankverse, gewählt haben möchte; und seine Erklärung war ihnen nicht ganz befriedigend, daß ihm diese freiere Versart für einen Gegenstand, der selbst so viel Freiheit und Mannichfaltigkeit fodert, und für die Schilderung zwangloser Natur, die schicklichste gedünkt habe.

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B. II. v. 448. ff.

Pride of the year, purpureal spring! attend

And in the cheek of these fweet innocents t
Behold your beauties pictur'd, as the cloud
That weeps its moment from thy fapphire heav'n
They frown with caufelefs forrow; as the beam
Gilding that cloud, with caufeless mirth they

Stay, pitying Time! prolong their venal bliss.
Alas! ere we can note it in our fong,

Comes manhood's feverish fummer, chill'd full

By cold autumnal care, till wintry age
Sinks in the frore feverity of death.

Ah! who, when fuch life's momentary

Would mix in hireling fenates, ftrenuous there.
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 haunts, celeftial folitude!

Where felf-improvement, crown'd with felf-con


Await to blefs thy votary? Nurtur'd thus.
In tranquil groves, lift'ning to Nature's voice,
That preach'd from whispering trees, and babbling


A leflon feldom learnt in Reafon's fchool,
The wife Sidonian liv'd: and, tho' the peft
Of lawless tyranny around him rag'd;
Tho' Strato, great alone in Perfia's gold.
Uncall'd, unhallow'd by the people's choice,
Ufurp'd the throne of his brave ancestors,
Yet was his foul all peace; a garden's care
His only thought, its charms his only pride.


But now the conquering arms of Macedon
Had humbled Perfia. Now Phoenicia's realm
Receives the fon of Ammon; at whose frown
Her tributary kings, or quit their thrones,
Or at his fmile retain; and Sidon, now
Freed from her tyrant, points the Victor's step
To where her rightful fov'reign, doubly dear
By birth and virtue, prun'd his garden grove.
'Twas at that early hour, when now the fun
Behind majestic Lebanon's dark veil

Hid his afcending fplendor; 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,
With languid ftreamers, and with folded fails,.
Float in a lake of gold. The wind was huf h'd,
And to the beach, each flowly-lifted wave,
Creeping with filver curl juft kift the fhore,
And flept in filence. At this tranquil hour
Did Sidon's fenate, and the Grecian hoft,
Led by the conqueror of the world, approach
The fecret glade that veil'd the man of toil.

Now near the mountain's foot the chief ar-

Where, round that glade, a pointed aloe screen,
Entwin'd with myrtle, met intangled brakes
That bar'd all entrance, fave at one low gate
Whofe time disjointed arch with ivy chain'd
Bad ftoop the warrior train. A pathway brown
Led thro' the pafs, meeting a fretful brook,
And wandering near its channel, while it leapt
O'er many a rocky fragment, where rude Art
Had eas'd perchange, but not prescrib'd its way.

Clofe was the vale and fhady; yet ere long
Its foreft fides retiring, left a lawn

Of ample circuit, where the widening ftream
Now o'er its pebbled channel nimbly tript
In many a lucid maze. From the flower'd verge



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